The Miseducation of Leah Uley
by Sharzdah
Summary: Maybe she was just misunderstood. Perhaps temperamental. A frustrated wife, betrayed by the ones she loved. A friend. The ultimate yet reluctant ride-and-die. Dedicated and fearless to a fault. Maybe that was the real Leah Uley. Not just the bitter, difficult detective some made her out to be. AU/Casefic
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Copyright infringement of any kind is not intentional. Any discrepancies regarding the law, the Cook County Justice system and the supernatural are mine.**

 **Author's Note: This was inspired by a previously-written story, _The Chicago Dahlia_ (which I may revive one of these days), and _The Wire_. Rated M for language and violence.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **One**

* * *

" _It's not what you think_..."

Those words. That _phrase_. Uttered to her by the man who was supposed to be loyal to her. That was what he promised when he had proposed to her, that was what he had promised when he married her. He had been staring at her on that fateful night, wide-eyed in shock and fear, laying next to that other traitor. Naked under this bedroom sheets.

" _It's not that you think_..."

She could have killed them both. Put a bullet between their eyes, using her standard-issued Glock. It wouldn't have taken long. And then, after pulling some strings, find a way to stage the scene for simple murder-suicide. Maybe use justifiable homicide or simply manslaughter as an excuse if she could get the best defense—

But she hadn't.

Contrary to some's belief, she did have some semblance of self-control.

She took a series of deep, controlled breaths with hopes of suppressing the feeling mixed with anger, sadness, and frustration boiling inside of her. It wouldn't have been the first time feeling this way, and it would most certainly not be the last. It had been one month since her world came crumbling down, and she still felt like strangling someone.

" _It's not what you think_..."

Goodness, she must look pathetic right now, a month later, sitting on her old leather couch, staring aimlessly at the television screen in front of her. Unfocused to the point that she couldn't register the events displayed on her television screen. All she saw were blurred colors; all she heard was noise.

She had a half-filled jar-turned-cup in one hand and the wine bottle in the other.

And it wasn't even the good shit.

She could do better.

She _had_ to do better.

 _She knew this_ , and yet—

She downed the rest of the cheap red wine from the jar and quickly poured herself another glass.

 _This all wrong_.

For goodness' sake, she was an accomplished detective. With more than ten years on the force, she was one of the best in the business. She spent five in the Violent Crimes Division. She specialized in putting perps away, only with a handful of cold cases under her belt.

Maybe what she needed was a break. She might only need a few days. Head out west to visit some family and friends she had left behind when she had attended DePaul University all those years ago. Surely, her captain would understand. Jacob would understand. After all, she was only human.

She could put in her leave, give her captain a two-week notice, citing health issues or some other bullshit excuse. But although her captain wouldn't give her a hard time about it, Leah doubted he would truly _understand_. In his eyes, he only saw a tough woman who could handle anything, under any circumstances. Nothing could faze her: not the unpleasant rumors about her people skills, not an uncooperative suspect or partner and certainly not her husband—

 _Sam_.

She cleared her throat and took another sip. That man, her husband, another terrific detective. Goodness, he used to make everything _better_. He used to talk Leah out of these somber moods, take the wine away and wrap her in his strong arms, whispering sweet nothings and assurances in her ear.

And now, he was the cause of her anguish.

Maybe if she told the captain the circumstances behind her leave requests, he wouldn't judge her. He wouldn't ask more questions—

She shook her head.

What good would come out of baring her soul?

Not a goddamn thing.

She was already known all over the department as the bitter detective with a permanent attitude. _Difficult. Unworkable_. _A total bitch_. The one who had allowed her personal life to interfere with her work. The one who had forced a transfer for creating a hostile work environment. Eight partners in six years.

 _Fuckers_.

Her train of thought was interrupted by her ringing work phone.

She glanced at the device, grimacing at it, _hating_ _it_ , wishing she could toss it out of her three-story window and ignore it. But _that_ name blared on the screen. _Jacob Black_ , her new partner-in-crime. It had been three weeks since she had involuntarily joined his side; she couldn't make the wrong impression because of a damn stupor. Because of her own problems... such self-pity.

Over what?

Sam didn't care. If he did, he wouldn't have been messing around with her. Emily. _Her goddamn cousin_. After seven years of marriage, and he had the nerve to fuck her cousin.

If only murder weren't considered to be a violent felony—

She shook her head.

No, she wouldn't do it to herself this time.

She wouldn't go down that road again.

Leah placed the wine glass on the wooden table in front of her and answered the damn phone, " _Uley_."

Just as she had expected.

Duty called.

"I'll be down in fifteen."

She then reached out for the jar and the wine.

 _One last one_ , she promised herself, tipping over the bottle.

* * *

"Sorry I had to call you in at this time of night."

"It comes with the job," Leah replied, looking out the car window, eyes focused on the darkness that was Lake Michigan at night. A part of her was grateful for the late call. Doing actual police work was much more productive than wallowing away at home, consuming lousy wine.

"Yeah, but still…"

"Jacob, it's fine," Leah insisted, glancing at her partner, hoping he took her word for it. He seemed more frazzled than usual, gripping on the steering wheel tightly, glaring at every car around him as if they all personally had offended him.

Jacob slapped the steering wheel and cursed under his breath. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have taken Lake Shore Drive."

" _It's fine_ ," Leah repeated, trying to calm his nerves. It was uncharacteristic of her. If Jacob had been her last partner, she would have scolded him and threaten to take the L to her destination. "The crime scene isn't going anywhere."

She watched in relief as Jacob's grip loosen. Good, he was returning to his usual self. The self that Leah had begun to appreciate a few weeks ago. She liked him— Jacob was interesting because Jacob was different. He wasn't like the others. He was calm and collected.

And he didn't judge her or her problems.

* * *

"Relationships are a bitch," Jacob had told Leah, shaking his head not out of pity, but out of shared sympathy. It had been Leah's second day as his partner, and already, they were sharing personal stories from the inside their police-issued car as they watched a murder suspect speak to her accomplice.

Leah hadn't meant for Jacob to find out about Sam so soon. _Everything_ about Sam. There had been rumors, of course, but everything else—it had just slipped through her lips. It certainly wouldn't be the last time. There had only been something about Jacob that made her relax, making him easier to speak to. Too easy to trust.

"Not a word."

"Your secret is safe with me," Jacob had vowed, sitting up in his seat, staying on high alert. He must have picked up something Leah hadn't. "But word travels quickly at work..."

Something Leah had known all too well.

"I just don't want any of it to come from you."

Jacob had flashed her a reassuring smile. "It won't."

Weeks had passed, and no rumors had been spread courtesy of Jacob. Leah couldn't be more grateful— for that, and for how Jacob had seemed to let go in her presence when it had just been him and her. Over time, she had learned so much about things she had heard rumors but never had given them much credence.

About his word. Vampires. Werewolves. Shape-shifters. The supernatural, in general. They all existed but generally lived separately from the human population.

"It made life easier," Jacob had told her.

Jacob, Leah would learn, possessed an ability to turn into a wolf at will—Goodness, Leah had thought she had heard it all. To her complete surprise, she hadn't been terrified by the revelation. More fascinated than anything, and Jacob appreciated _fascinated_.

"Are you always this forward?" Leah had asked Jacob a couple of days before the past Christmas during a hushed conversation inside a local diner.

Jacob had glanced up from his plate full of medium-rare hamburgers. He had studied her with a straight face, breaking into a smile. A reserved one. "No."

Leah hadn't expected that. "Then why tell me?"

Because Jacob had thought it would be useful down the line. Why? A few weeks had passed since and Leah still couldn't figure it out, but for now, as both detectives rushed to their newest crime scene, the answer didn't matter.

What mattered was a young woman, allegedly found mutilated inside a high-end hotel suite.

* * *

Jacob said that the victim was described as a Black Dahlia copy-cat.

Leah hoped Jacob was exaggerating; she didn't think she had enough wine to deal with such a prospect, but she was a professional. She could handle gory crime scenes. Nothing could have possibly been worse than discovering a mass grave inside a landfill— thirteen people, reduced to decomposed beings, all victims of a gang war.

Or the St. Patrick's Day Massacre.

* * *

Leah was wrong.

She was wrong the moment she walked inside the LaPush Hotel in downtown Chicago. She was wrong as she studied her surroundings of the hotel's grand lobby. A crime, a murder, had just occurred on the floors above and everyone was _so_ calm. At least, one person, who wasn't a cop, in the crowd had to have known; word traveled fast, especially in the world of social media, and yet no one seemed alarmed.

"Victim?" Jacob asked a fellow cop. He had been the first one on the scene; the one who had contacted Jacob to arrive right away. He must be still bit shaken up by the recent events, Leah concluded.

"Caucasian female. Brown hair. Slim build," the officer quietly replied as he entered the elevator designated for police and medics only. "Quite a looker if she wasn't in that… state."

Jacob loudly cleared his throat.

"Inappropriate," Leah curtly informed the officer, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"ID?"

The officer pressed the button to the 29th floor. "None."

"How bad is it?" Jacob asked. "In your honest opinion?"

"I think you need to see it for yourself."

* * *

The scene of the crime was an executive suite, one of the most expensive rooms in the luxury hotel fitted with three bedrooms, two baths furnished with a Jacuzzi. A balcony overlooking Lake Michigan and a kitchenette with a fully-furnished bar. It was a decorated baroque-style and was in pristine condition with no signs of a crime ever being committed. Except for the master bedroom.

Leah followed Jacob closely as they weaved through the crowd of cops and crime scene investigators to the actual scene of the crime. More cops. More crime scene investigators and now, the medical examiner.

"Dr. Swan," Jacob greeted, giving a tight smile to the woman standing several feet from him. His dark brown eyes were friendly as usual but laced with fatigue.

Leah barely acknowledged Dr. Isabella "Bella" Swan as she directed more officers around the crime scene. But when she caught Bella's eyes, she nodded at the other woman.

Dr. Isabella Swan—Leah could never get a clear reading on her. She seemed nice, but… she couldn't decipher precisely _how_ she felt about her. Jacob, on the other hand, thought Bella was wonderful; the best damn medical examiner in the business, he would proudly proclaim. But Leah supposed that the man might be biased; everyone in the Cook County justice system knew Jacob had a crush on the doctor.

Jacob walked around Bella to further inspect the body, stopping a couple of feet from it, right beyond the yellow tape. Horrified, he stared down at it, removed his hat, and held it to his chest. " _Christ_ ," he breathed.

"I know," Bella concurred, moving around the _pieces_ , searching for more distinctive markings.

Leah soon came up from behind Jacob and froze.

The young woman was nude and _in half_. The parts laid about a foot apart with a pool of blood and intestines strewn between them. Lacerations all over her face and body; all clean and concise save for the torso. The victim was laid out as if she was a disregarded mannequin. Her arms and legs spread apart, and her insides—

Leah cleared her throat and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

 _A sadist did this_ , she decided. There was no doubt about it; only people like that would do some so heinous, so passionately, violent, yet so… organized. The killer knew what he was doing, but the blood. There was so much blood; why didn't he clean it up?

The victim was presented in plain sight; anyone with access to the room would have noticed her. Someone _had_ seen her.

Leah's eyes roamed around the room; everything was in pristine condition. No visible signs of a struggle. The victim must have known the killer enough to let him (it was usually a _him_ ) inside her room. She would have to consult the hotel staff about any disturbances or any calls to 911.

She swallowed a few times. "What do you have so far?" she asked in a level voice, staring out in the distance. She had to look away from the body, even for a few seconds.

"There are no signs of struggle, not around the room, not on her—I don't think," Bella said, and then added, "Oh, there is something you should see." She bent down and pointed at the nape of the victim's neck. "What do you say?"

A bite mark.

The detectives knelt on opposite sides of the body, peered at the mark, then at each other, and then back down. Eventually, Leah glimpsed at Jacob to see his reaction; he seemed concerned. Perhaps she should be as well. "A bite mark," she said moments later. "Where do you think it came from?"

If it had been a month ago, Leah wouldn't consider the bite to have originated from e anything but an animal. But since becoming Jacob's partner and learning about the existence of the supernatural, she had no choice but to consider other possibilities.

Bella further examined the wound. "I don't know. At first, I thought it was an animal, but…"

"You think someone bit her," Jacob finished. "A person."

Bella nodded, though not entirely convinced. Something sharper than human teeth had punctured the skin. Perhaps by fangs. "Yeah, a person."

Jacob turned to Leah. "Human or…?"

" _Or_?" Bella's eyes shifted from one detective to the other. "What kind of other person is there?"

Leah3w glared at her partner. She thought he, of all people, wanted to be more discreet about _himself_ and the others. "Only human."

"Yeah, human," Jacob glanced at his partner, seemingly thankful and apologetic. He then ran a hand down his face and groaned. "I can't believe this—Not even a month since the transfer, and I gotta deal with a goddamn sadist. Bella, Dr. Swan, when can get some results?"

Bella glanced down at the victim. "Tomorrow," she decided. "I should be able to provide, at the very least, the estimated time of death."

Leah wasn't satisfied with the answer. This was already a major case; the media was going to have a goddamn field day. Their captain was going to be up in arms, and the station might get a visit from the mayor—they needed an autopsy done ASAP.

She told Bella this.

Bella cleared her throat and gave Leah a tight smile. "Of course."

A cop rushed into the bedroom and announced, "The press is here!"

Leah cursed under her breath and announced that she would be heading to the lobby to meet any reporters before they caused any more havoc. Jacob chose to stay behind.

It was fine; she needed some time to think to herself even for a span of one whole moment. She slumped against the elevator wall as the machine descended to the lobby, mind racing. She thought about Sam (of course, she did), she thought about Jacob and the unfortunate victim whose life was so viciously taken away. She thought about the killer—that bastard that didn't deserve to live for another second.

She stood up straight when the elevator door opened, revealing, as expected, a group of reporters. They all stared at her, with their smartphones pointing her direction as they struggled to reach the front of the crowd, all eager to get the latest scoop.

"Good evening, everyone…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

* * *

It was 2:30 am.

And Sam still hadn't come home.

Disappointed but not surprised, Leah considered calling him. She wanted to tell him about her night, and about tomorrow, which for sure would be a complete shit-show. The media already knew about the victim at LaPush, and it wouldn't be long before the rest of the city would, too.

But would Sam pick up the phone? She honestly didn't know. The man was the embodiment of mix messages; he had always been, but Leah had convinced she could handle that side of him.

She didn't know what he wanted from her. Forgiveness? Acceptance? Denial? Or maybe just simple resignation.

Did he want a divorce? _Did she_? The thought had crossed her mind; she had even googled how to initiate the process, but couldn't bring herself to proceed further.

She couldn't give up. Not yet. Not until she received an explanation. Maybe there was a story behind this insanity; it was a far-fetch theory, but Leah had dealt with crazier criminal investigations.

Something must have _happened_ , and that was why Leah hadn't delivered Sam the divorce papers.

She couldn't give up.

* * *

"Marriage is a commitment," Sue had told her daughter over a cup of coffee. Two weeks back, the day after Leah had given her the upsetting news. "It's not something to take lightly at the beginning or the end."

"Yeah, a monogamous commitment," Leah had almost snapped back.

"Yes, but... it's up to you to decide if you're willing to work things out. We've all made mistakes."

"But he—" Leah had stopped herself. She hadn't told her mother about Emily; it would've been counterproductive, in her opinion. Her family had enough drama as it was. "I don't know what I want," she admitted. "Sometimes, I want to throttle him. Sometimes, I just want to... I don't know."

"You know what I think would help?" Sue had offered. "Marriage counseling."

Her mother had meant well; she always had, but Leah didn't need counseling. She just needed Sam to be honest with her. Why Emily? Why would he cheat on his wife with her goddamn cousin, _her blood_?

* * *

" _Leah_."

She looked up at her husband, defiant, ready to fight. But she found herself unable to form the right words to express how she felt.

Sam wasn't supposed to be _here_. Leah fully expected him to spend the night at _her_ place and not see him until... fuck, she didn't know. But here he was, standing several feet away, staring at his wife, breathing hard.

Was she supposed to say something? Sam fully believed so, running a hand through his short dark hair; his expression mixed with annoyance and confusion. But what would make anything better? Should she bring up the previous, unresolved, argument? Ask about Emily? Ask about _him_?

This wasn't the time for a heart-filled conversation. It was half past midnight; sleep was behind Leah's eyes. The sight of the poor woman lying on the bloody floor, in pieces still plagued her mind.

"So, I see we're back to the silent treatment..."

Leah's gaze turned into a heated glare. He had no right. What did he want? For them to engage in yet another late-night shouting match? To attract the attention of the neighbors? To get their god damn coworkers called on them? She took a deep, controlled breath to quell any desires to toss an alarm clock at her husband's face.

Sam just huffed and left.

 _Fucker_.

* * *

"You have to talk to him," Jacob would tell her a couple of days later. "This silent treatment can't last forever."

Leah finished her unsatisfying coffee and grumbled, "I don't have to do shit."

Jacob sighed. That should have ended the conversation, but the conversation never ended with them even when Leah was in her mood. For the life of her, Leah couldn't determine how or rather _when_ Jacob had become her official venting-partner. A few weeks ago, she hadn't wanted to say a damn word, but now, she couldn't imagine _not_ speaking to him about her issues.

(This could be a problem in the long-run, Leah concluded. Jacob hadn't joined the police force to become his partner's pseudo-shrink.)

"Leah, you can't go on with this," Jacob persisted as he pulled up to the Cook County Court's parking lot. It was eight in the morning, two hours before the pair were scheduled to testify in a murder trial.

"I think we need to focus on our testimony."

Jacob emitted a sound of utter frustration before turning off the car.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't ask Leah about it at the end of the day.

Leah would end up giving him the same answer.

* * *

The following night, Leah finally took Jacob's advice. She would have to be the one to break the silence. Because Sam would be just as stubborn as she was— though she genuinely wished it wasn't the case. This wasn't her conversation to have. She didn't want to bring up Emily, a woman she didn't want to see or even think about ever again.

"Why her?" Leah asked after her husband walked to through the front door, tossing his coat to the side, shrugging off his suit jacket. "Tell me."

Sam loosened his tie and then froze.

"You could've been with anyone else," Leah continued, her voice cracking as she fought back her tears. "Why would you choose _her_?"

"It's complicated," Sam replied; his eyes turned distant with a hint of regret.

Leah had to let out a humorless laugh. " _Bullshit_."

"Leah, don't start. Not at this time of—"

Leah shot both hands up, effectively cutting off her husband's words. Shaking her head, she stood up and headed towards her bedroom. Walking by, she glanced up at a wall clock. 3:15 am. Three hours before she was expected to rush out of her apartment and go straight to work.

"Goodnight," she told Sam, shutting the door behind her. She waited for several seconds to pass before turning around, staring at the door in front of her, listening intently for any movements. Namely, Sam rushing towards their bedroom, begging Leah to forgive him, and promising to give her an explanation. Asking her about her newest case…

That woman lying on the hotel floor, mutilated—damn it, Leah couldn't get that sight out of her mind.

She picked up the phone from her bedside table and quickly dialed Jacob's cell, but then soon deleted each number. She ended up tossing the phone aside.

 _Tomorrow_ , she decided. She would talk to Jacob tomorrow.

* * *

"You know, this sounds like a classic case of retaliation."

Jacob glanced up, acknowledging Leah's comment before taking a bite of his lunch. It was two in the afternoon, and they were both sitting inside a north-side diner on Clark Street, both taking a break before continuing with Day Three of their investigation.

"Yeah, I know," Jacob replied before wiping off the grease from the overloaded beef sandwich with the back of his hand.

Leah groaned out of disgust and envy.

She missed greasy, artery-clogging, blood pressure-rising, food.

"It's most likely mob-related. Maybe cartels," Leah carried on, unenthusiastically playing with her salad; it looked utterly unappetizing, but she was dedicated to maintaining a healthy diet. She wasn't Jacob; she couldn't just inhale three greasy, meaty sandwiches in a short time and still looked like a goddamn heavyweight mixed martial artist. "You know how _creative_ they can be with their victims."

"Hm."

Leah soon gave up on her salad, leaned back in her seat, and stared at her partner. "You know who is probably involved. Dr. Swan had informed me earlier while you were on the phone with the captain that she had heard some of our comrades talking about it."

"Did they?"

"Yeah. So, what are we going to do about it?"

"Our comrades?"

"No, the fact that they were referencing _them_."

Jacob shrugged. "I don't know..." he admitted, frowning. "I don't know."

Leah sighed.

Their captain hadn't provided them with much direction. All he had told them was that he supported their investigation one hundred percent and that the Chicago Dahlia case was to be their biggest priority. _The Chicago Dahlia_ —the unfortunate victim had only been dead for a little over a day, and the press had already given her a nickname.

At least, they had an actual name: Jessica Stanley. Aged 24, hailing from the Lincoln Park section of Chicago— a decent neighborhood with full of decent people. She had been a part-time student at DePaul University, right above downtown. She also had two arrests under the belt for disorderly conduct, and it was with her fingerprints that she was able to be identified.

"We should notify the feds," Leah suggested. "Maybe even get the Special Gang Unit involved. I'm sure Paul will have a field day."

"No can do. We don't have enough justification to get them involved right now. Besides, Paul's people aren't allowed to intervene in any of _those people_ 's drama unless it's a special case. You know that."

Leah frowned. Yeah, she did. In her opinion, the whole deal made decades ago between law enforcement and specific populations was complete bullshit. She perfectly understood why the police would entertain the idea, but it wasn't right. The police were letting criminals off the hook because they weren't "normal," and the public couldn't handle persons who didn't identify themselves as "human."

There had to be a better way.

Leah pushed aside her salad and pulled on her coat and a wool hat. "Any updates on the hotel tapes?"

The hotel cameras had been _conveniently_ disabled on the night of Jessica's murder because of a "short circuit".

Jacob groaned.

So, that was a "No".

Leah understood Jacob's frustration. From inception, it was evident that nothing, in this case, was going to be easy. Firstly, the hotel room, the scene of the crime, had been fully paid in cash, and therefore, the hotel staff had deemed it unnecessary to obtain any credit card information, something Leah had found that fishy, and so had Jacob. Also, the murder room had been issued under the victim's name with no one else on record.

Only Jessica Stanley.

"Captain's sending another team to the scene to gather more info since the hotel staff's being useless. For the time being, it looks like we gotta look into our best lead."

It wasn't the _best_ lead, but they had to start from somewhere.

Leah nodded and retrieved a piece of paper from her coat pocket. On it was the names of a list of Jessica's friends, courtesy of social media—two of which the detectives would interview that day.

* * *

The interview with Angela Weber and Tyler Crowley was scheduled for 4:00 pm at a location right outside of DePaul University. Detective Black and Uley had undoubtedly lucked out with both friends. Both were eager to talk. Both were dedicated to finding their friend's murderer. Both weren't panicking, just cool, calm, and collected as they faced the detectives.

Relatively-speaking.

"I cannot believe she's dead," Angela cried, still visibly shaken by the news. She had never thought that in a million years she would personally know a murder victim, especially one had been killed in such a gruesome manner. "She was such a sweet girl, had everything going for her. She didn't have any problems with anyone. Everyone adored her. _How could this have happened_?"

Tyler took Angela's hand into his in an attempt to comfort her. He shared his friend's sentiment, but he knew they wouldn't get far if they let the grief overcome them.

Leah tried to remain sympathetic, but Angela's statement was so clichéd that the detective wanted to do was roll her eyes. According to families and friends, every murder victim was a nice, decent person who had no enemies.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Jacob genuinely said, pulling out a pen and a notepad. Leah did so, as well. "We will do everything in our power to find the person responsible for your friend's death. Again, thank you so much for meeting with us at such short notice."

"It's no problem," Angela said with a bittersweet smile.

"We're just happy to help out the investigation," Tyler added.

"When was the last time you've both seen Jessica?" Leah asked.

"That afternoon. We all had lunch together," Tyler said, and then continued after Angela gave an approving nod. "That day was her birthday. We were all gonna celebrate together, but Jessica said she already had plans."

"What kind of plans?" Jacob asked.

"She didn't say," Tyler quietly replied, flashing back to that very conversation. "She only mentioned that she would meet up with us the next day to go to the Blackhawks' game. And that she'd let us know when to pick her up."

"Did she ever contact you both after that?" Jacob asked.

"No. That was the last time we've both heard from her."

Jacob nodded as he wrote the information down. "So, at the time we'd reached out to you yesterday, did you both already know what had happened to her?"

"No," Angela finally replied, glancing at Tyler. He didn't meet her gaze. "We only learned about her murder from the news."

"You haven't seen her for two days…" Leah said, suspicious. "And you both were supposed to meet up with her to go to a hockey game; did you not find it a bit odd that you couldn't reach her?"

Jacob subtly nudged Leah with an elbow. Leah gave her partner a slight glare and cleared her throat; right, this wasn't an interrogation. She had to remember that. "You had mentioned over the phone that during those two days that you were worried about her—" The students nodded, and then Leah continued, "Where did you both realize something was off?"

"When she didn't show up for Computer Applications class," Angela replied. She glanced at Tyler for affirmation. The man nodded. "She never misses that class. Ever—" she dropped her voice. "She kinda had a thing for the professor. She always wanted to make an impression."

"And when did you realize that something had to be _wrong_?" Jacob asked.

"We never did…" Angela admitted, feigning guilt. "We didn't suspect anything until we heard about the murder. I wish we had noticed earlier; we would have gone to the police."

"So, you didn't file or attempt to file a missing person's report?"

"We were gonna," Tyler answered for Angela. "But we just thought that Jess was only doing her famous disappearing act again."

"Disappearing act?"

"Yeah, about every two weeks, she would drop off the face of the earth for a couple of days. It was usually on the weekend, especially during long holiday weekends."

"We could never get a hold of her during her trips," Angela added. "No calls. No texts. Nothing. It's like she had disappeared."

"Did she ever mention anything about the purpose of these trips?"

"Not to me."

"Same for me. In the beginning, Jessica would say that she was staying with some friends from high school or work—people we didn't know," Tyler continued.

"How long has this been going on?"

Tyler and Angela shared a look.

"Maybe… a year, a year and a half," Angela replied. "She would go on these trips to random, exotic places. Last month, she went to Bora Bora, Bali, Paris, _and_ Abu Dhabi... I used to think that she was so lucky."

"So, you had reasons to believe that on the night of her death, Jessica was on one of her trips?" Leah wanted to clarify.

"Yes. If we didn't think that, we would have definitely called the police," Angela insisted. "She's… _was_ our friend. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her."

After spending another ten minutes questioning the pair, the detectives, namely Jacob, decided that for the time being, there was no other relevant information the two friends could give them. When Leah finished her last question, Jacob pulled out two of their business cards and handed one to each student. "Thank you for your help. You have both been a big help. We'll keep in touch."

As soon as the two college students said their goodbyes and went on their way, Jacob leaned over and whispered to his partner, "Something's telling me that our victim was living a double life."

"Something tells me you may be right," Leah whispered back. "And sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to grill them like that. You know, I'm just—"

Jacob squeezed Leah's shoulder. "You don't need to apologize. You're just doing your job. A great job."

Leah gave him an honest smile. It was a rare sight to see given her usually serious demeanor, but it was a lovely one. "Thank you."

She couldn't believe how far they've come in their partnership in such a short time. Three weeks ago, Jacob had been visibly annoyed when he had been assigned to be Leah's partner following his transfer. The problem hadn't been Leah's work ethic; she was a fantastic detective, but she was known for being intimidating.

But Leah was convinced that he was growing to like her. He completely understood her feelings concerning her husband's actions and vowed to never judge her about it. Plus, he had told her not too long ago that she was just what the police department needed: a wolf. Not in the literal sense, of course, but in personality, a necessity to survive in this city, in this country, in this world. In this climate full of different people. People who wouldn't have been identified as "humans" when the feds finally decided to classify them.

"So, where to next?" Leah asked as she got into their car.

Jacob followed suit, put on his seat belt, and insert his key in the ignition, turning it on. "First, we gotta get a round of coffee. I think we all need some caffeine right about now. Then, we'll visit the morgue and see how Bella is doing."

* * *

Leah Uley entered the lab of Dr. Isabella Swan of the Office of the Medical Examiner at approximately six in the evening. Bella was inside, putting aside some tools; she stopped to wave at the detective. Leah returned the gesture before noticing the office's new hire, Dr. Eric Yorkie. A darling, as Bella had previously described, who was still stuck in college—Leah, to this day, didn't know if that was a compliment or an insult. Then again, Bella didn't seem to be that annoyed around him.

She greeted Eric and then Bella; Eric waved while Bella greeted her back. Neither person bothered to go beyond the standard pleasantries as Leah walked further into the lab, observing its surroundings; the large room was pristine, but it still unnerved Leah to know that she was walking among the dead.

Leah wished Jacob would hurry up and join her.

She occasionally glanced at Bella as she walked around the lab in silence. Her relationship with Bella was something she couldn't describe. She didn't _dislike_ the medical examiner, despite what some people at work thought; she didn't think much of her, and the feeling was definitely mutual. But she would work on it; if she were going to be Jacob's partner for the long run (and she was banking on it), she would have no other choice.

"Please, tell me you have good news."

"This may be your lucky day," Bella said, looking beyond Leah and raising an eyebrow. "Jacob's coming?"

"Getting the coffee," Leah said. For a reason she couldn't discern, the question made her feel a certain kind of way. It was probably nothing, she concluded. After clearing her throat, she approached Bella. "Anything new?"

Bella nodded and handed her a notepad.

Leah thanked the medical examiner with a nod and began to scan through the documents. "Thank you for the prints, by the way," she said. "We were able to find a match, and now our investigation can proceed, and the press can be satisfied... somewhat."

"I'm glad to help," Bella said.

"Oh yes, Jacob sent us a message about that," Eric said. "Jessica Stanley. 24 from Lincoln Park. You got an occupation, Detective Uley?"

"Part-time student at DePaul, and a waitress at a local diner—"

"Good late afternoon, everyone," Jacob announced as he walked into the lab, balancing three cups of coffee. One for Eric and two for Bella. The medical examiner gave him the most grateful look she could muster and put the drinks aside for the time being.

"Jacob, you are a goddamn godsend," Bella said.

"I try."

"Thanks," Eric said when Jacob handed him his coffee.

Jacob approached the victim's body and stared at it. A white sheet covered it, but he could still see where the body had been cut. "Okay, so what we got?"

"We have determined that our victim died from cardiac arrest, induced by the bite on her neck." Bella pointed to the mark. "Unfortunately, we still do not know _how_ it happened. There are no traces of venom, and we were unable to isolate any foreign DNA."

"She must have died from something," Leah said.

"Obviously, but—we plan to run more tests. It's going to be on the pricey side, and my supervisor isn't going to be thrilled, but we don't have any other choice. I've never seen anything like this before."

"And the dismemberment?"

"Post-mortem. Done with a saw, not a machete, like we initially assumed," Bella replied. "She died almost instantly and without much struggle. Perhaps that was the reason no one noticed anything until the maid came in."

"Bodily fluids from anyone else?" Jacob added. "You know, just in case."

Bella shook her head. "Non-existent, but we do know it was a crime of passion. Normal murderers, if there is such a thing, don't do this with a dead body. Obviously, whoever did this is trying to send a message."

Jacob ran a hand through his short hair. "Yeah, we're still trying to figure out to _whom_."

"There's also something else I'd like to show you. We found something on the inside of Jessica's wrist that may be of some interest." Bella walked alongside the body until she reached the area where the severed arm lay. She lifted the sheet. The detectives stepped closer for a better look. "Do you have any idea what these letters stand for?"

Neither detective said a word.

Leah recognized those initials. _CD_. Those two letters just made the investigation into the death of Jessica Stanley just more interesting.

 _Cullen-Denali_.

One month ago, Leah had known them as a couple of crime families with aspirations of becoming one. Since knowing Jacob, they were two crime families who just happened to be made up of vampires. Covens, they were called.

She glanced at Jacob; based on his stiffened stature, she knew her partner was aware of the implications as well.

About twenty seconds passed before Jacob finally spoke up. "Cullen-Denali," he breathed, staring at the mark with a look Bella had never seen before. It scared her. "It stands for Cullen-Denali."

Bella and Eric exchanged curious looks.

Leah wasn't surprised. Resigned, but not surprised. She took her phone out of her pocket and quickly dialed a number. "I told you it was retaliation."


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

* * *

"This changes things."

"This changes everything."

Leah nodded as she watched her partner enter their car, still parked in the Office of the Medical Examiner parking lot. He didn't seem like himself; antsier. More concerned. More frustrated. She remained silent as they both put on their seat belts.

She didn't utter a word until Jacob turned on the car. "Is this car bugged?" she asked. Leah was pretty sure it wasn't, but with the new policy changes, "mandating" cameras in all police-issued cars, she needed to be sure that she and Jacob could have an "off the record" conversation.

Jacob rested both hands on the steering wheel and squeezed it, hard. Hard enough to Leah to be worried that the man was moments away from bending it. Jacob deeply inhaled and exhaled before quietly saying, "No."

Leah was visibly relieved. "So, I suppose with this new development, we have to refer to the Deal. I, admittedly, don't know any specifics, but I have a good feeling that you do."

Jacob stiffly nodded. He loosened his grip on the wheel before tightened up again—his entire body stiffened. "In its entirety."

"Can you explain it to me?" Leah carefully asked. She didn't know if Jacob would honor her request. The Deal was a touchy subject for everyone in the law enforcement community. It was dubiously legal; a document that would cause an uproar if the general public knew about it. It was so controversial that its details weren't known to everyone employed by the Chicago Police Department, not even her.

She had accidentally found about the Deal months ago, not because of her coworkers but because of Sam. "It was a slip," he had told her before downing a couple of beers to swallow his disappointment in... himself. Only those who came in contact with those involved knew about the Deal; they had all been sworn to secrecy.

Leah had no idea what her husband had been referring to. Who were _they_? What did the Deal consist of that made it so secretive? She had wanted to ask so badly, but Sam—he had looked like he had been moments away from whisked away by the FBI.

"Leah…"

" _Please_ ," Leah said, almost to the point of begging; something she didn't do very often. "I can handle it. I know it's supposed to be a secret, but if you want me to help you with this case, I need to know the truth."

Jacob finally looked at her; his eyes hesitant, nervous even, pleading for Leah to let the topic go. But Leah refused to falter and eventually, Jacob relented. Releasing a sigh, he rubbed the steering wheel and finally released it. "The truth is: we all have to pick our battles."

"What do you mean?"

Jacob eventually loosened up.

"We're cops, right? Our job is to protect and serve. We try to do that every day, but we can't catch every single bad guy. We can't prevent every single crime. Why? Not because we don't care. It's because we're not perfect. We gotta... what's that called? Use cross-benefit analysis. We gotta take chances. We have to maintain the peace."

"I don't understand..."

"We're not omnipotent. There are times when we have to do some give-and-take. But it's all for the better good. Or at least, that's what they're trying to sell to us."

"Sell what?"

"The Deal."

Leah's gaze dropped to her lap.

"I don't like it. Never have. But I get it. It's a tit-for-tat. It had worked for so long, but then _she_ had to get killed."

"Jessica."

"She was human. Humans are supposed to be untouchable, unless under certain circumstances. See, we only recognize crimes that involve humans. Whether it's corporate fraud or whatever—it always involves humans. Right?"

Leah nodded. "Right."

"But under the law, the supernatural isn't protected. We may walk around like we're one of you, but once the public or the authorities find out about who we really are, we don't have the same rights."

"But that's not right," Leah contested. "You're people. Just like the human race. Okay, yes you're different... but shouldn't you fight for it?"

"C'mon Leah, how do you think a layman's gonna react when we come out? Out and proud? Do you think they're going to let us live? You think they'll let us work and walk in the same space. Shop at the same place without giving us Hell? Fuck no," Jacob said, raising his voice. "If someone, who's not you, finds out what I'm a..." He stopped, and then, "I'll be done for. Who's going to let me investigate homicides? Some fools are gonna probably think _I_ am the goddamn killer."

Leah wanted to tell him that wasn't true, but she would only be lying. She didn't want to lie to Jacob. Instead, she gulped and then quietly asked, "...but why the Deal?"

"Because certain law enforcement agencies believe that it's better for everyone to let the other side win some battles," Jacob replied. "Just as long as it doesn't involve humans."

"So, you either have the Deal..."

"Or we have to come out. Most don't think it's worth it. You know, it may create a panic. It's a threat to public health. Like I said: we gotta maintain the peace."

"And exactly how is Deal going to impact our case?"

Jacob didn't immediately answer. Leah patiently waited; she hoped it didn't mean giving up. They were detectives, for heaven's sake, they couldn't "give up". They couldn't allow the bastard who mutilated Jessica to run around, free.

"It's going to make our job a lot harder," Jacob admitted.

"But it's not impossible?"

"Nothing's impossible," Jacob replied, suddenly becoming determined as he put the gear into drive. "We're going to find those damn bastards, and pray that Jenks would prosecute them."

"The vampires?"

Jacob's expression turned stormy—Leah cleared her throat. _Right_ , Jacob was not their biggest fan. He could tolerate them and had done so in the past, but only because he wanted to keep his job. One day, Leah would ask him about it.

Leah nodded. "You think Jenks' going to prosecute vampires, providing that they were the ones who did that to Jessica?"

"Yes," Jacob said, and then, "No." He groaned. "I don't know. If we have a strong, fool-proof case, he would have no choice. He's not like the others. Vampires don't faze him. Not that much."

"And if that doesn't work?" Leah asked just as she felt a familiar vibration in her coat pocket. She retrieved her personal phone and checked the text message. It was from Sam, asking her to meet up for dinner. In public, of course. Leah supposed he was finally ready to talk—

But she declined the offer. She was working. Surely, Sam would understand.

Her husband didn't reply.

"We call in the feds," Jacob replied as he backed out of the parking space.

* * *

That night, the detectives stopped by the LaPush Hotel. It was approaching 8:00 pm, an ideal time for some snooping around. No member of the press in their right mind would be around. Not with security being on high alert, and a hotel manager who was growing increasingly annoyed by the media's presence— the situation over the past couple of days had gotten so bad, that the hotel owner had to issue an ultimatum. Only law enforcement personnel were allowed to camp inside or outside the hotel around between the hours of 5:00 pm and 8:59 am.

The left half of the 29th floor had been closed off since that fateful night. Ten rooms in the vicinity of the crime scene were no longer ready to be booked until the investigation was over (or until the public no longer deemed the area as "creepy" or "haunted"). The room, itself, had its front door locked with numerous strings of caution tape around it and a police officer standing guard.

The detectives greeted the poor rookie with a cup of coffee and foil-wrapped burger (his request) before entering the room. Nothing had been moved except for the victim's body (an outline of the corpse was taped to the cleaned carpet). And the blood—the blood spilled on the floor, found on the walls had been scrubbed clean.

But Leah could still _see_ her. Everything. The spatter, the pool of blood and guts. Jessica. Such a pretty young woman, lying on the burgundy-carpeted floor in two pieces, in the nude, with her dark eye-shadow and scarlet red lipstick. Her penciled-in eyebrows. The authentic diamond studs in her ears. Her black sequin mini-dress strewn across the bed…

"You see her?"

Leah stared at the floor, slightly frowning. "I don't think I'll ever _not_ see her." She looked up at her partner. "You?"

Jacob dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves. "Every night," he admitted, crouching down next to his partner. He ran his fingers around the carpet, looking to see if there was anything the CSI team missed. "Every time I pass this damn place…"

Leah nodded.

The decision to return to the crime scene had been Jacob's idea. He claimed it was a necessity given the new revelation about the Cullens and the Denalis' potential involvement. He needed to see what he could have possibly missed, what the cameras couldn't pick up—the detectives would end up receiving some camera footage, thanks to a subpoena, but it wasn't too helpful. The video captured Jessica checking into the hotel, alone. Her walking in the direction of the elevator bank, alone. Her stance seemed relaxed, indicating that she wasn't too on-edge. No one was following her. She was just _alone_.

"So, there were no signs of a break-in," Leah said, half question-half statement, as she walked around the bedroom, stopping at the door. The door itself seemed normal; the frame appeared unscathed.

"Right," Jacob said, pulling out a chair from under the table adjacent to the bed. He leaned back on it, looking up at the ceiling. Aimlessly. Musing.

"So, we can assume that she knew the killer," Leah said. "No one in their right mind, associated with _certain organizations_ , would open the door for just anyone and not put up a fight."

Jacob sat back up. "Unless the perp was too fast for her."

"Even so, we have no signs of a struggle. No reports of shouting. No reports of anything breaking…"

"What are you thinking?"

"Jessica was associated with the Cullens and the Denalis, both of which are known for their illicit business. Jessica was working for them. Maybe to pay for school? Maybe this was a botched deal?"

"Okay, so what if that's true? Who would be involved?"

"The Volturi?"

Jacob's eyes dropped to his partner. "The Olympic coven and the Volturi would never make a deal," he said. "Now, I may not know the specifics of vampire politics, but I do know that much."

"What about their affiliates?" Leah offered. "I'm sure the Olympic doesn't know every single person that works with the Volturi. Maybe the Volturi caught up to an Olympic ally, made an offer they couldn't refuse?"

Jacob's eyebrows drew together. "It sounds plausible, but it's just that…" he trailed off, trying to gather the right words. "This isn't like them."

Based on past experiences, he was right. All three families were known for handling their business on the low; that was one of the reasons why it was so hard to prosecute any of them. (Others being that the Olympic coven "supposedly" had the infamous Rosalie Hale on their payroll, and the Volturi more-or-less having diplomatic status— _long_ story).

"Maybe the hitman got it all wrong?" Leah suggested. "Do you think this is the work of Felix or Santiago?"

"I just can't _see_ them doing this, even for retaliation," Jacob said. He didn't appear to be in tuned with Leah's musings. "They're expert hitmen. They do their business and go right to the next one. They don't have time to mutilate someone like that."

"I suppose," Leah said, unconvinced, continuing her sweep around the room. It hadn't provided her much. She stopped when she felt a series of text messages coming through. The room, as grand as it was, didn't offer much cell service outside of the front room.

One was from her mother, confirming the lunch she "insisted" they had on the weekend— she would be there.

Another from Seth, begging her to tag along to watch the newest Marvel movie—sure.

A third from Aisha St. Pierre, a detective in the Special Victims Unit and a classmate at the police academy (and occasional unofficial therapist)—yes, they definitely needed to talk.

And the last one from Sam. _Never mind_ , he texted. She stared at the message; it wasn't anything special, but it still stung. Because she would hear the disappointment behind it—she wanted not to care. Fuck you, and your feelings, she tried to respond. But instead— Sorry.

"We'll find out tomorrow when we meet up with Jessica's roommate," Jacob said, standing up. "She has to know _something_."

* * *

Three days following the murder of Jessica Stanley, the detectives arrived at the apartment of Lauren Mallory, located along the row of condos on Sheridan Rd., overlooking Lake Michigan. They were in the Edgewater section of Chicago, not Lincoln Park as provided in the background check—Lauren had mentioned to them during a phone call that Jessica had only recently moved in November.

Lauren had also mentioned that she was ready to cooperate in the investigation.

Leah knocked on the door; the detectives didn't have to wait long, and after introducing themselves and presenting their badges, the front door to the apartment creaked opened, revealing a young woman. She didn't look like she would have anything to do with a sordid murder—but Leah couldn't think like that. Based on her many years of experience dealing with criminals, she couldn't merely determine anyone's innocence on looks.

"Good afternoon, Miss Mallory," Jacob started. The detective gave the woman his patented-warm smile. He usually played the good cop with his friendly face, and Leah often played the bad one (although he had to remind her that this was recon, not an interrogation). It worked for them, and it worked for the police force.

"Good morning," Lauren said, keeping her guard up.

"We just want to ask you some questions about your roommate," Jacob said.

"You mean Jessica."

"Yes," Leah clarified. "Jessica Stanley."

"Just questions," Jacob insisted. "Like we had said over the phone."

Lauren's nerves dissipated a bit and allowed the detectives to walk inside. "You can come in; I have nothing to hide.," she said. "I have seen countless detective shows. I know the drill." She stopped. "Are you sure I don't need a lawyer?"

"Not unless you have a reason to," Leah said.

Lauren checked with Jacob. He winked, and she smiled, trying to suppress her blush.

Leah rolled her eyes at the exchange.

Lauren led them to the living room and offered the detectives to sit down on the sofa. She, herself, sat on the love seat, opposite of the guests with only a small table between them. She was composed, still a little anxious, but composed.

The condo was a decent two-bedroom apartment, owned by Lauren's parents; that was Lauren's justification of being able to keep up with the mortgage. As far as the detectives were concerned, part-time waitresses wouldn't be able to afford such a place, especially one overlooking the lake.

"I feel terrible for not doing anything," Lauren said, eyes downcast. She twiddled with her thumb and bit her lip. "I just can't believe she's dead…"

"How long have you known Jessica?" Leah asked.

"Three years."

"You two were close?"

"As close as roommates could be," Lauren said. "I mean, we were friends. Sort of. But not _best friends_."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"That morning. Right before I headed to work, Jessica told me she didn't have to work that day, so she stayed behind. She was making some eggs when I left."

"What time specifically?"

"A quarter to eight."

"Did she mention anything about her plans for that day?"

Lauren shook her head but then nodded. "Oh… she did mention that she was going to meet up with this guy. The name escapes me, but they were gonna meet in some bar downtown."

"What time would that be?"

"Don't know. Nighttime? Probably during happy hour?"

"Did she provide some details about this guy?"

"No, not all. All I know was that he was an Eastern European guy, claiming to be an aspiring model."

Leah nodded as she jotted down the notes. Aspiring model. So, the man had to be young and attractive. "Did she have any other plans?"

"Yeah, she was going to spend the night at a hotel."

"When did she plan on coming back?'

"The next morning," Lauren replied definitively. "She said she was spending the night downtown. She often books a room at LaPush for herself. I guess she wanted to think she was rich or something."

Leah nodded. So, that explained why the hotel room was under her name. A room that, on average, cost six hundred dollars a night.

"For herself?" Jacob asked. "She books a room at LaPush for _herself_?"

Lauren shrugged. "Yeah, I know it sounds a bit weird, but this is Jessica. She has uh… a reputation for being adventurous. I guess it was a birthday gift to herself or whatever. January 15th is her birthday; she was twenty-four." She let out a dry, humorless scoff, and mumbled, "Ain't that something?"

The detectives exchanged a look.

Lauren let out a dry cough and offered, "I guess you'd want to see her bedroom?"

The detectives nodded. They didn't technically have a warrant; they were only here to ask questions, but since Lauren had been the one to offer first, they could get away with it without getting yelled at by their captain. They both rose from their seats and followed Lauren into the bedroom.

Leah and Jacob roamed around once they entered the room. It wasn't anything special — a medium-sized neat bedroom furnished by two beds, two dressers and two large closets with mirrored doors. Jacob focused on Jessica's dresser as Leah approached Jessica's closet. It was slightly opened.

"Do you mind?" Leah asked Lauren.

Lauren shrugged. "Go right ahead."

Leah carefully slid back the door and peered inside. It was a mess, full of clothes and shoes and books. Nothing looked odd. Nothing smelled too odd, and—she stopped, pulled out a tissue from her coat pocket, and bent down to pick up a pair of stilettos—authentic crystal-studded Louboutin's. Although Leah was far from a fashion connoisseur, she knew that those red-bottomed pumps had to, at least, cost several hundred dollars. She looked around and found a few more pairs.

Gucci. Fendi. Chanel. Hermes. Yves Saint Laurent...

"Your roommate had quite the taste," Leah remarked.

"Yeah, she was a shopping-fiend. She would only wear name-brands. Damn, some things cost more than people's salaries."

"If you don't mind me asking," Jacob started. "You both worked at the same dinner?"

"Yep."

"How much you get paid an hour?" Jacob asked.

Leah listened intently for Lauren's answer. It was obviously suspicious that with no trust and horrible credit could be able to purchase an entire closet full of expensive merchandise. Or maybe she didn't buy them. Maybe they were gifts provided by a wealthy benefactor. Either way, it didn't look good.

"Um… we're waitresses. It depends entirely on the day and the people," Lauren said, staring at the shoe, and then muttered under her breath, "Not enough to afford those. That's for sure."

Leah put down the shoe and mouthed to her partner, " _We gotta get a search warrant_ ," when Lauren looked away. Jacob nodded in agreement.

"Did she have any other means?" Leah asked.

Lauren hesitated to answer. "I don't know for sure…" she quietly said, flinching under Leah's suspicious gaze. "I've never asked her about her money. She paid half the bills with no problem, so I've never bothered. Maybe she had some long-lost rich relatives?" She paused to gather her thoughts. "Or maybe… now, this is gonna sound so bad because Jessica was a great girl, but I think she was, you know, flaunting herself."

"A stripper?" Jacob suggested.

"Escort?" Leah offered.

Lauren quickly shook her head. "No, no, that's not what I meant. It's just that… I think she was a sugar baby or something. I mean, that would explain the random exotic trips, and the clothes, the jewelry, right?"

"Jewelry?"

"Oh, you _gotta_ see this." Lauren led the detectives to Jessica's dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a metal box. It was locked with no key in sight. "I obviously can't open it, but I know she has stuff on here—You know that movie Titanic? And that necklace Rose wore?"

"The Heart of the Ocean," Jacob quickly said, ignoring the slightly amused look from Leah.

Jacob, rumor had it, _loved_ that movie.

"Yeah, that's the one. She has one in here," Lauren said. "But it's red. Ruby, maybe?" She held out the box for the detectives to take. "Here. Take it. I have no use for it, especially since it belonged to a dead person. Not trying to get haunted, thank you."

Jacob declined and chided himself for not asking for a damn search warrant. He made a mental note to make sure he demanded one when he returned to the precinct. "You can put it back. Thanks. We will definitely keep in touch."

* * *

Following the meeting with Jessica's roommate, the detectives visited the Office of the Medical Examiner and were able to extract more information from Bella and Eric regarding Jessica Stanley.

Inside the car parked outside of the building, Leah opened the file and began to read from the unofficial, unfinished autopsy report, "She died from cardiac arrest. Possibly induced by an unknown substance," he read and then looked up. "Probably poison." She shook her head and repeated, "Poison."

Jacob didn't say a word.

Leah continued, "Estimated time of death, between 6:00 pm and 8:00 pm. All lacerations are post-mortem. DNA tests on the neck wound ruled negative, so did was the substance found inside her vagina."

"Lube?"

"KY Jelly, to be more specific. Nothing on when it was applied, but I'm saying, based on semantics, it couldn't have been inserted long before her death. I mean... you know."

Jacob let out a low chuckle and began to drive away. "So, she probably had a date that night, and let him—"

"Or her."

" _Or her_ inside her hotel room, got busy, and shit escalated. _Real quick_ ," Jacob said. "They found nothing? No semen, no saliva?"

"Nada," Leah said. "And here's the thing: the poison had to have come from the neck wound. There were no signs of needle marks or any poisonous substance in her digestive track or nether regions."

"She was bitten."

Leah figured as much. "The prep wanted to turn her?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, _kill_ her," and then further explained. "A vamp's bite has two purposes: it can kill or turn you. It depends on what happens after. So, if a vampire bites you, you die; if he wants to turn you, he'll make you drink his blood. Then you're revived."

"She wasn't revived."

"Nope," Jacob said, peering up at his rear mirror and quickly turned around.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "We're not—?"

"Later. First, we're gonna pay someone a visit."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

* * *

Mike Newton was an interesting man.

As the owner of one of the hottest upscale bars in the city, he had his fair share of interactions from both sides of the law. He prided himself as being a negotiator. The peace maker. The man who tried, to a point, to solidify the line between the general public and _everyone else_. He was what people on the streets called a "Swiss Player." He knew everyone but didn't explicitly affiliate with anyone—it was just business. He only sat back while the fighting continued and offered any help when it seemed fit. Everyone knew he had a complicated relationship with the cops, and that his bar had a strict non-partisan policy.

And that was why he was currently, one of the most important informants for the Chicago Police Department.

It was at his establishment, located right outside of downtown Chicago, where Jacob and Leah went to around ten in the morning, following a pit stop at the Chicago Dahlia crime scene. The visit was not announced as evident by the look of horror and irritation on Mike's face when he caught sight of them walking into his bar, flashing their badges and heading up to his second-floor office.

"Look, if you're here about that lady who got chopped up at LaPush, then you're wasting your time," Mike said the moment the detectives walked inside his precious office. "I ain't got anything to do with that."

"Goodness, Mike, how many times have you received a visit from us?" Leah asked, shaking her head. "Don't you know those are some seriously incriminating words?"

"I'm just saying. I've heard from my sources that you two are on case, so I thought it would been wise to point that I don't murder people like that."

Leah snorted. "Are you implying that you've murdered people before?"

"Y-you know what I mean…" Mike sputtered.

"Calm, down Mike, we ain't here to arrest you. We just want to talk," Jacob insisted, and then, "Unless you've done something you weren't supposed to."

Leah took a step forward. " _What did you do_?"

"Didn't you just hear me?" Mike practically shrieked. "Nothing! I swear."

After taking a series of controlled breaths, Mike brought out a box full of top-notch cigars and placed in on his desk. He needed one, badly. Mike opened the lid of the box. "You want one?"

Leah shook her head.

Jacob declined.

Mike shrugged, pulled one out and lit it. "Okay, so, what do you want?"

"Like I said, we're not here about the murder," Jacob said. "Not exactly. I know you got eyes all over this city, so start talking."

"About what?"

"Volturi."

" _Shit_."

"See, Leah, told you we should stop here." Jacob chuckled at Leah's half-heartened glare. "Yeah, the Volturi. C'mon spill."

Mike groaned. "C'mon, Jacob…"

"It would be in your best interests to start talking, _Newton_ ," Leah suggested, becoming frustrated.

Mike, realizing that he wasn't getting out of the conversation, finally relented. "Okay, _okay_. The Volturi... they're just being the Volturi—you know how it is." He leaned over his desk and lowered his voice. "Word on the street is that they're going head-to-head in the blood trade with the Cullen's and their allies. They want control of the northern route."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. The northern route stemmed from northwest Chicago, up north before stopping just past Canada. "The Cullen's? I was under the impression that they only did business out west after the St. Patrick's debacle?"

"Well, somehow, _someway_ , they're here, and now, everyone's collectively losing their shit."

The detectives exchanged looks. The Northside of Chicago was known for being one of the quieter areas. Paul Lahote, the captain one of the more specialized (and underground) gang units in that region, hadn't mentioned anything about the increasing violence.

But then a realization hit Leah, "Hold up, that region was controlled by the Giza gang. Had been for years—"

"Yeah, until a week ago. The head of that crew disappeared to fuck-knows-where, and since there's now a power vacuum, that area's fair game."

"For what: drugs, guns, blood, trafficking…?"

"Everything."

"So, which alphabet agency is up their asses? DEA? ATF? FBI?" Jacob asked. "I know there has to be a fed-presence along the northern route."

"The FBI's been pretty quiet, but you know that's gonna change soon. There's some DEA action up north, near the Canadian border. There's this little war's spilling over out east into Iowa, _of all places_ —into the James Gang territory—the ATF'S all over that."

"I thought James was dead?" Leah asked.

"He is, but now his girl, Victoria, is running the show," Mike said, shuddering. "And boy, is that bitch a _trip_. She makes them cartels look like fucking pansies. No one's crossing her, not even the Volturi. Well, at least until they get more reinforcements."

Jacob leaned back and shook his head. "Does the James Gang have a strong hold in this city?"

Mike shook his head. "Haven't heard anything about that."

"Okay, back to the Cullen's, I need names. Real names."

Mike snorted. " _Oh, come on_ , you know they don't go by their real names. Even their nicknames change every other year—"

"So, you're telling us that you don't know who they are?" Jacob asked. This was Mike Newton, a man with questionable morals and the ability to obtain information that not even the damn Federal Bureau of Investigation could get their hands on. " _You_?"

"I mean, I may have heard of them, but like I said, they change their identities all the time," Mike explained. "Look, I've never seen them in person. Only over the phone and shit. See, the Cullen's ain't flashy like the Denali's. They like to lay low... real low. Low enough for me not to know their actual identities. Except for the boss; everyone knows the boss."

"Who's the boss?" Jacob asked.

Mike snorted, surprised. "You don't know the boss?"

" _Mike_ …" Leah growled.

Mike threw his hands in self-defense. "Okay, calm down. The name's Carlisle Cullen."

Jacob blinked. "The doctor?"

"Yeah, the doctor. Now, how did he manage to become a boss from _that_? I have no fucking clue, but he's now running the entire operation. You know that blood-drug bust by the DEA a couple years back? The one where they found a few dead bodies filled with bags of blood _and_ organs? That was _all_ him. He managed to send out ten shipments before the feds got on his ass. Did only one year in Alcatraz."

Oh, Leah had heard of that story alright. The deputy superintendent, whose son works for the Drug Enforcement Agency, was still ranting about it. Carlisle had gotten off easy because he was the client of silver-tongued queen of all fixers, Rosalie Hale.

"I'm glad I'm not in the gang unit," Jacob remarked under his breath, and then asked in a louder voice, "This squabble over the northern route, is only about the contraband trade, or does it have something to do with the never about the never-ending coven drama?"

"Covens?" Mike nervously shifted in his seat and swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, Mike," Jacob warned. "You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

"Look, man, I'm telling the truth. I don't know nothing about covens."

"You're using a double-negative," Leah pointed out, earning a glare from the night club owner. "So, I assume that you do."

"Which one is it, Mike?" Jacob pressed.

" _I don't know_!" Mike exclaimed, flailing his arms. "Maybe it's both. I honestly don't know _anything_ about covens or vampires. They don't talk about that shit around me."

"But you _do_ know something about it, so that means they must've mentioned something around you."

"Okay, yeah, but only in passing," Mike admitted. "I didn't really pay attention. See, I don't involve myself with the supernatural. I have a hard-enough time dealing with _humans_. I don't need to start anything with vampires or fairies or fucking people who can turn into half-man, half-wolf…"

"Werewolves," Jacob corrected, trying not to chuckle at Mike's dramatic behavior. "They're called werewolves."

"Well, whatever they're called—I don't mess with them either."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ you do," Jacob insisted. He smirked at the puzzled expression on Mike's face. He was hoping that Leah had caught onto the reference, but judging by his partner's side-eye, he supposed she didn't appreciate it.

Silence fell among them for a bit until Mike interrupted it. "Hey, so is this little talk over? Because I got a night club to run, among other things."

Jacob studied the man, but then broke out into a grin and stood up. "Don't see why not. You've given us some important info. Thanks for that."

"We do appreciate your _cooperation_ ," Leah added.

"Yeah, well, glad help," Mike uneasily replied. "Glad to help."

Jacob snorted and headed towards the exit, but then stopped and turned around. "Hey, Mike. One last question: what's your opinion about the Dahlia murder?"

Leah gave her partner a bewildered look.

"My opinion?" Mike shrugged. "I haven't looked that much into it, but… normal people don't kill like that. That's some serial-killer, sicario, cartel-shit."

"You think it's them?" Leah asked.

"Who, the Volturi?" Mike asked. He shook his head when Leah nodded. "Nah, they're old-school. If they'd killed anyone, you wouldn't even know about it."

Leah frowned. Mike was absolutely right. That was part of the reason why the Volturi family had been able to slip through both federal and municipal law enforcement for years.

Jacob nodded, checking the time on the clocking hanging on the wall adjacent to him. "Thank you, as always, for your help. Have a nice day and try to stay out of trouble."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

* * *

Leah knew Jacob didn't want to get Paul involved in the Dahlia case, but following the meeting with Mike, she knew he knew they had no other choice.

It was close to midnight when the detectives decided to pay Paul a visit at his precinct before finally retiring for the night. Leah was nursing her fourth cup of coffee (with two extra espressos). Jacob was having his second Red Bull of the hour, and they both managed to found themselves in the middle of back to back traffic on Lake Shore Drive.

At midnight.

"I'm really starting to hate Lake Shore Drive," Jacob complained as his car lurched up one glorious foot.

Leah nodded. There should be no reason why there were so many cars on the road at this time. On a Wednesday night. "I feel we spend half of our day in traffic."

"Ain't that the truth…" Jacob said, rolling his eyes as he removed his phone from his jacket pocket. He checked it, and suddenly his surly mood disappeared.

Leah watched her partner and smirked. "Bella?"

Jacob slightly flailed, dropping his phone on his lap. After quickly responding to the text, he placed the phone in the cup holder. He gave Leah a dirty look before directing his attention to in front of him, nothing but rows of cars and traffic lights in the distance—he must have thought Leah was teasing him.

Leah wasn't teasing him. At least, not entirely. "What?" she shrugged, glancing out of the window. Her smirk didn't drop. "I think it's cute."

Jacob was surprised. "You do?"

"I mean, personally I don't see the appeal, but yeah, I guess it's cute." Leah turned to her partner. "There's a question I've always been meaning to ask: what is it about her?"

Leah didn't mind Bella; she just never found anything special about the woman. She was a coroner that lacked _any_ self-preservation, as shown by the events of the past few years. And she wasn't... interesting— Leah didn't know; maybe she was just being bitter.

"She's cute," Jacob simply replied.

Leah snorted. "There has to be more than that. What else do you like about her?"

"Why do you care?"

Leah sat up her seat. Now, Jacob was being defensive; he was always defensive about anything relating to Bella. "Oh, come on, Jacob. You know a lot about my relationship drama. Don't you think I should know something about yours?"

Jacob chuckled. "Hey, I never told you to tell me about Sam," he said light-heartedly. He stole a glimpse to ensure that Leah knew he had been joking. Her smile said she did. "I don't know. I just do."

"Have you told her?"

"If she doesn't know by now, then she'll never know," Jacob said. "Apparently, I wear my heart on my sleeve."

Leah nodded. Oh yes, she had heard about that very trait that got Jacob in trouble quite a few times. It tended to rear its ugly head at the worst possible times. "Yeah, but have you _told_ her?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Nothing's going to come out of it. We're friends, and that's fine. Why complicate things?" Jacob shrugged. "So, I like her? But I'm not looking for anything. A relationship or whatever. I don't mind the single life, and despite what my dad thinks, I ain't lonely."

"Have you tried…" Leah paused to gather the right words. " _Not_ the single life?"

"I was married once."

Leah blinked. "You were?"

Jacob let out a snort. "Yeah. High school sweetheart."

"What happened?"

"I became a cop."

Leah didn't need to ask more. Those four words provided all of the information she needed. The life of a cop wasn't easy, especially on relationships. It was generally no one's fault; it was a just a different lifestyle with different responsibilities and realities.

"Would you do it again?" She quickly asked.

"What? Marriage?"

"Yeah."

"I honestly don't know," Jacob said. His eyes widened as he noticed that the traffic was finally moving. "If it happens. It happens..." he trailed off.

Jacob wanted to ask the same question; Leah could practically _hear_ the question forming in his mind. She was grateful that he hadn't; she didn't know what her response would be. She was still married, after all. She hadn't thought much beyond that, beyond a life without having Sam as her husband. She never thought that day would come.

"How's Sam?"

"He's fine," Leah immediately replied. She supposed he was fine, and she supposed that he wasn't coming home tonight. He hadn't asked about dinner. He hadn't asked about her whereabouts.

"That's good."

"I don't know what to do," Leah said without thinking. It wasn't fair to drag Jacob along with her mess (though in her defense, Jacob had never told her to stop).

"Wait it out, and see how it goes," Jacob suggested, immediately knowing what Leah was referring to. "Did he, at least, apologize?"

"He said it was complicated."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Leah cleared her throat. "I just— I just can't seem to read him anymore. I don't know what he wants anymore. And it's my goddamn job to read people."

"In your defense, Sam's a good detective and an even better interrogator, I'm sure he's just working extra hard not to convey anything that can be used against him."

"And what would that solve?"

"Not a goddamn thing," Jacob admitted.

* * *

Leah liked Captain Paul Lahote.

He was a decent guy. A little brash with some anger issues and an affinity for toeing the legal line when it came to getting people to cooperate, but all and all, he was a decent guy.

He was also the head of a specialized gang unit in the police department. Their role was not defined on the books. Neither was their jurisdiction. Their entire unit wasn't even official— the press didn't know about it. The mayor liked to pretend it didn't exist and the feds only tolerated it because the unit made their lives significantly easier.

All Leah knew that Paul's people dealt with situations that the other gang units (or the feds) wouldn't dare touch for reasons that might include dealings with the supernatural— but that was an unconfirmed rumor.

"Paul, my man!" Jacob greeted as he headed towards Paul's office. Not one of the cops on duty reacted to such a loud outburst at this time of the night; they were used to it.

Leah just rolled her eyes. Partly from embarrassment. Partly from jealously that it was close to one in the morning, and her partner still had so much energy.

"Look who came to ruin my day," Paul announced, standing under the threshold to his office, watching the detectives approach him. He seemed amused.

"Good very early morning, Lieutenant Uley," Paul greeted when Leah reached him.

Leah acknowledged Paul with a nod. "Captain Lahote."

Jacob stopped and looked between Paul and Leah. "What, no first name basis?"

"No," Paul said, pushing Jacob inside the room. "Because we're professionals."

"Oh, _fuck you_."

Leah could only shake her head. The captain laughed and slapped Jacob's shoulder hard enough to Leah to cringe; Jacob seemed fine. He was sharing a grin with Paul. "You really use that language in front of a captain?" he asked, shaking his head, feigning shame.

"You're not my captain," Jacob reminded him, flopping in one of the chairs in front of the captain's desk.

Leah followed suit.

"Thank the _fuck_ for that," Paul joked, sitting behind his desk, and then, "Alright, I love you both. You're like family to me, seriously, but I know you're not here to pay a friendly visit. So, what happened?"

"We visited out favorite informant," Jacob replied.

"Oh, how is that fool doing? I haven't seen him a while."

"He's fine," Leah said. "He claimed to know nothing about the Dahlia case, but did mention about a little fight brewing on the border."

"Yeah, I know all about that," Paul said, and then added, "And before you ask: not my jurisdiction."

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "What _is_ your jurisdiction?"

Paul cut him a look. "It's complicated."

"Ah."

"The ATF's involved in the action?" Leah asked.

" _Of course_ , they are," Paul grumbled. "Because God forbid, we can ever take credit for busting on those assholes for illegal arms."

"Just arms?" Jacob asked.

"No..." Paul trailed off, and crossed his arms. "Blood."

Leah cleared her throat. "Blood."

Paul glanced at Jacob; he was trying to be nonchalant about it, but Leah could see the hesitance in his eyes, the questioning about what she knew. They must be heading into the Deal territory.

Jacob nodded. "She knows."

" _Oh_ ," Paul said, relaxing a bit. "Well, look at that. Congratulations, Detective Leah Uley. You've officially be inducted in the club."

"I'm flattered," Leah replied, deadpanned. "So, what can you tell us?"

"I have a few people shadowing the Olympic, the Volturi and everyone without a pulse," Paul said. "It's been relatively quiet, but you know how it is—quiet before the storm. From what I hear, there's a new bullet on the market. It's called: ultraviolet."

"Ultraviolet?" Leah questioned. "As in light from the sun? But why?"

"What, rather who, does light kill?"

"Holy shit," Leah said, eyes widening. "You can't be serious."

"They have bullets designed to kill vampires?" Jacob asked. "You've gotta be shitting me."

"Oh, I wish I was," Paul said. "Look, we don't know who's the supplier or the main buyer. But if any of those assholes have that kind of bullets, imagine what havoc they're going to unleash."

"There's going to be another war," Leah concluded.

"Yes, there is."

"Why?" Jacob asked.

Paul shrugged. "Why not? The Olympic and the Volturi have hated each other for centuries for reasons I still don't know."

"Those bullets have got to be the hottest commodity in the supernatural black market," Leah said. "Even more than human blood."

"At the moment, I agree with you," Paul said. "Hence the ATF being up my ass."

Jacob shot up from his chair. "Hold that thought. Sorry. Be right back— gotta take a leak."

Leah grimaced. " _Thank you_ , Jacob, because I wanted to hear that."

Jacob chuckled and blew a kiss. "You're welcome, my love."

Leah rolled her eyes as she watched her partner rush away.

"That's a funny dude," Paul said, leaning back in his seat, his eyes on Leah.

Leah looked at Paul, unnerved by the way he seemed to be studying her. "What is it?"

"You good?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I ain't gonna lie to you. People talk," Paul said, and then, "How's the transfer going?"

"I mean, personally, I rather not deal with the Dahlia case, but I can't complain."

"I'm glad," Paul genuinely said, nodding. "Jacob's a good man. You shouldn't have any problems with him."

"I don't."

"Good. So, he told you everything..."

"Apparently, we like to vent our frustrations en route to murder scenes."

Paul grinned. "Well, look at that. Crime scenes truly do promote some good ol' quality bonding time. Gotta tell my people that."

"You should."

"Hey, so we're having a little get-together at the end of the week at a local bar. Nothing too big—just some friends around the force and Jacob's people. You should come; you can even invite Seth so I can kick his ass at pool again," Paul said. "It'll be nice."

"What time?"

"Happy hour," Paul said. "Don't worry. I'll talk to your boss about ending the day early."

"Thanks."

"And if anyone dares to joke about your marital problems. I'll punch their face in and make it look like an accident."

Leah had to give him a warm smile. That had to have been one of the nicest things anyone had ever said about Leah's situation (which was pretty tragic, now that she was thinking about it. "I'll be there," she promised. "Thanks for the invite."

She considered asking about Sam. After all, he and Paul had been friends for years. Surely, Paul would love to see his face, but Leah didn't want to put Paul in an uncomfortable position. He had enough on his place.

"Ah, no problem," Paul said with a shrug. He looked behind her and announced in a mocking voice, "Oh, look who finally decided to come back. You had better not messed up my bathroom—"

Jacob gave the captain a dirty look as he walked inside the office. "Oh, I know _you're_ not talking—"

Leah raised a hand, effectively ending potential of yet another good-natured argument. "Okay, as appealing as it sounds to hear about your bowel movements, I think we have more important things to discuss."

"Yes, of course." Paul clapped his hands, ready to get started. "So, I know this isn't my investigation, but I'm curious. What do you think happened to that girl?"

"You mean the Chicago Dahlia?"

Paul nodded.

"We think it's a hit," Leah said.

Paul raised both eyebrows. "That's one hell of a hit," he said.

"We think _they_ are involved."

Paul was doubtful. "Look, I know their hits. That's not one of them."

"Yeah, I know. That's what we're to get to the bottom of," Jacob said. "We think Jessica was associated with the Olympic who you know isn't on good terms with the Volturi, so..."

"You think the Volturi did it?" Paul asked. "They don't do shit like that. They're more discreet with uh... disposing of people."

Jacob shrugged.

"Well, shit."

Leah pulled out a piece of folded paper, opened it and handed it to Paul. "Recognize this?"

Jacob scooted up to take a peak and then up at Paul for his reaction. The captain sat up his seat and stared at the photo, seemingly stunned and concerned. "Where did you find this?"

"Inside Jessica's apartment," Jacob replied. "Her roommate showed it to us."

Paul blinked a few times, confused. "But that doesn't make..." He stopped and brought the color photo closer him. After studying it for a moment, he carefully placed the photo on his desk. "Do you know what this is?"

The detectives glanced at each other.

"No," Leah replied, becoming extremely interested in Paul's interesting behavior. This wasn't like him. At all. "Which is why we're showing you this."

"And you found it inside her apartment?" Paul asked.

"Yes."

"How did she get it?"

"We don't exactly know," Jacob said. "We assumed it was a gift. Jessica had a lot of expensive items in her possession."

Paul shook his head. "No one could have possibly given her that necklace."

"Are you implying that it was stolen?" Leah asked.

"Hell yeah, I am. That necklace belongs to Sulpicia of the Volturi," Paul said. "Yeah, _that one._ She had reported it stolen to a _certain_ agency several months back. Now, what I wanna know is how the hell did a waitress get her hands on it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

* * *

Bella Swan, apparently, liked to live her life on the edge.

At face value, it shouldn't have been a big deal. Bella had always interacted with the "interesting" folk; usually, it was petty criminals and persistent attorneys. Or the devastated relatives who tended to break down the moment Bella revealed their loved ones. She claimed she was used to this, but last night? Last night had been different.

Bella, in typical fashion, said not to worry about it.

Leah wasn't too sure. According to Bella, the whole situation wasn't serious, but that wasn't much coming from a woman who was a danger magnet. Since coming to the city three years about, Bella had been kidnapped (and thrown into a backseat of a car) and threatened with her life numerous times and had been the participant of a series of lawsuits.

The incident that occurred last night at the Office of the Medical Examiner was concerning. Late night visits without an appointment were _concerning_. So was requesting the coroner to stop an autopsy of a subject featured in the most controversial murder of the year without a good reason. The man had even offered Bella a bribe—which she didn't take.

 _Thank goodness_ , Leah couldn't help but think.

In efforts to make sure that her partner didn't have a major freak out about the possibility of Bella being _her_ (or hiring a goddamn security detail for the doctor), Leah had offered to help Jacob find the perpetrator via a background check. Her efforts only helped somewhat.

"Based on the name and description provided by Bella, I only found one match," Leah told Jacob the morning after as they both strolled along the shores of Lake Michigan. They were near Lincoln Park, taking a break before heading back to the precinct. They had a highly anticipated meeting with their captain. "But I doubt it's him."

Jacob snorted as he walked around a sandy ice patch. "That's encouraging."

Leah pulled out a couple of sheets of folded paper out of her coat pocket, unraveled and handed them to her partner. "Edward Anthony Masen. Born on June 20, 1901. Chicago native. Son of a prominent lawyer. Enlisted in the army for World War One but was hit with the Spanish Flu in 1918, right before shipping out to Europe. He was treated for his illness in this city, and… that's where the record ends."

Jacob stopped to skim the pages, particularly the man's photo. It was grainy, black and white, but the profile certainly fitted Bella's description. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Maybe not?"

"His record ends at age eighteen." Jacob looked up. "Don't you find that odd? He contracted the flu and was treated, but nothing about his progress."

"It _was_ 1918."

"And his father was a big-shot lawyer. Not some unfortunate soul on the streets—there had to have been a record on this Edward. Heck, even a death record."

"He got better and was released?"

"There still should have been a record," Jacob maintained, handing the pages back to his partner. "Unless..."

Leah didn't like Jacob's tone. "Unless what?"

"He escaped before anyone could notice—"

"He would be over a hundred years old now. Not in his mid-twenties like Bella described…" Leah's words trailed off as a theory popped into her head. A theory she would have never considered months ago. "Unless he was turned back in 1918 to offset his illness."

Jacob snapped his fingers. "Bingo."

Leah took a moment to mull things over. "So, he's a vampire," she slowly said, and then added, "Well, he must be working for the Volturi or their allies. Maybe he doesn't want the truth behind Jessica's death to come out because of incrimination."

Jacob shook his head. "No, they wouldn't go to Bella and ask for a favor. They would just take Jessica's body or force the court to do so. No, he must be working for the Cullen's or the Denali's—they also have an interest in this investigation."

"Mike Newton didn't mention anything about this Edward being a part of the Cullen family," Leah said.

Jacob frowned. "No, he did not."

"A new affiliate, then?"

"Something tells me no."

* * *

Forty minutes later, Leah called Paul as she waited for her partner to pick up a quick breakfast— to give Jacob a peace of mind. As soon as the captain picked up, she said, "Edward Anthony Masen, heard of him?" She could hear Paul's men in the background barking out commands and shuffling things; they must be preparing for a raid. "Sorry, I—"

"Damn, I haven't heard that name since... rookie year?" Paul replied, nosily pushing back his chair. "Wait— _Cameron, stop messing around and hurry the hell up!_ I swear that guy's gonna give me a fucking heart attack." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, we got an interesting arrest warrant to serve to an interesting gang in the next hour. _Anyway_ , yeah that Edward-guy. Heard his name in passing, but never investigated or talked to him."

"Did he work for the Olympic?"

"We never confirmed his association. Captain didn't deem it necessary," Paul said. "Frankly, we all kinda thought he was some low-level thug who dressed nice. Why you ask?"

"You heard about Bella?"

"Why do you think I'm running on _two_ hours of sleep?" Paul grumbled, adding a yawn as an effect.

"Apparently, this Edward was the one who visited Bella."

"That was him?" Paul snorted. "Like I said: low-level. No one in their right mind would visit a damn coroner ten o'clock at night to stop an autopsy — especially not the Dahlia's. You're gonna need an act of God to pull that off. I wouldn't even worry about it."

"Oh, I'm not worried," Leah quickly replied, though she did have some doubts. Everything about this situation just seemed too fishy and… bizarre.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll look into it."

"Thank you," Leah said. "And for the record, it's not for me. It's for Jacob, you know how he gets. And the investigation."

"I'll let you know if I find anything. _Cameron, if I have to tell you one last time—_ Hey, Leah, I gotta go."

Leah chuckled as she heard the commotion and then a crash in the background. "Please don't kill Jared. He hasn't even reached twenty-five yet. He's practically a baby."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Bye, Paul, and have fun with your warrant."

* * *

"What did he say?"

"He'd check it out," Leah replied as Jacob got in the car. She thanked him for the coffee, and continued, "Said he's heard of him, but as far as he knows, he's a nobody."

"A nobody wouldn't pull a stunt like that."

"Yeah," Leah had to admit while taking a sip of her coffee. It was steaming hot; just what she needed. "Yeah, I know, but he also said that there's no chance in Hell would anyone stop the Dahlia's autopsy. The case is too hot. The media will have a field day if they find out…"

"Unless it's done without them finding out," Jacob said.

"Someone's going to talk eventually," Leah insisted.

"You'd be surprised."

* * *

"Okay, Detective Black and Uley, what do you have for me?"

"We have reasons to believe that Jessica Stanley involved with a criminal organization known as the Olympic, controlled by the Cullens and the Denalis," Leah replied, grateful that this meeting finally commenced.

It had been six days since Jessica Stanley was found mutilated the suite of a luxury hotel. The cause of her death still hasn't been finalized. No suspects. No clear motive. Just one thing: the victim had some connection with the criminal underworld.

It was a step, albeit a small one, but it still something.

"Based on what?" the captain asked, expression dismayed by Leah's statement.

"We discovered the family's brand in the inside of Jessica's wrist. The one generally reserved for any prospective associates."

"We double-checked with Captain Lahote, and he verified this," Jacob added.

The captain looked down at the photo. He didn't seem too impressed. "Your only evidence is a _brand_?"

"And testimony from her roommate and friends," Jacob quickly added, glancing at Leah. She looked straight ahead. "According to them, she was only working as a part-time waitress, but when Uley and I checked her apartment—"

"Her roommate was fully cooperative and showed us Jessica's room without provocation," Leah interjected.

Just in case.

"Yes," Jacob said, and then, "Jessica's closet was full of, rough estimate, over a million dollars' worth of items."

"Not including a priceless antique," Leah added. "If you look at the third picture in a pile, you will see a necklace like the one from the movie, _Titanic,_ but with a ruby."

The captain checked the third photo and raised an eyebrow as he held it up. "Trust fund?"

"None."

"Parents? Close relatives?"

"She's an only child from a working-class background. Her family's originally from the backcountry of Oregon," Jacob stated. "Parents dead from a car accident. The closest relative we found is an uncle, and he's... let's just say, I doubt he's been funding Jessica's lifestyle."

"I see."

"We need a search warrant," Leah said.

"I suppose you do," the captain replied. "Also, run a check on his uncle and see if you can reach to him."

"Will do, captain," Jacob said, "And the warrant?"

"Give me half an hour."

* * *

"So, why the transfer?"

"Apparently, I'm a bitter bitch," Leah casually replied, flashing back to _that_ eventful meeting with her former partner and captain. "His exact words."

It was one of those car heart-to-heart conversations. The daily ones. The hourly ones. The ones that usually happened on Lake Shore Drive because of traffic or an accident. The ones that Leah begrudgingly looked forward to because it was nice to vent to someone besides her dear friend, Aisha, and to a lesser extent, her mother.

Jacob winced. "Ouch."

"He caught me at the worst, possible time. Called me minutes after I found Sam in bed with _her_ , complaining about something trivial. Something that could have probably waited until the morning," Leah explained. "Now, did I have to lash at him like I had? No, of course not. But the captain thought it would be best for me to... work in a different climate."

"Away from Sam."

"Away from Sam during the work day," Leah clarified. "It is what it is. And I like working with you more."

Jacob fought a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're not a dumb ass. You tend to think before you act." Leah softly chuckled. "It's refreshing to be around someone who's competent."

Though Leah's attention was outside, she could practically picture Jacob's grin.

"I like working with you, too."

"Yeah?"

Their eyes met, but Jacob broke it off. "Yeah."

* * *

 _Sasha and Vasili Denali found dead. Two to the head. Stakes to the chest._

It had been thirty hours of absolute radio silence from her husband, and the first time she received from him was a text about this. A double homicide. Supposedly a double homicide—there was something about the circumstance that bothered Leah until no end. A conversation about their relationship; that was all they needed to have to go forward, and Sam wouldn't even consider it. She was going to have to force it out of him.

She had received the text roughly two minutes after successfully executing the search warrant at Lauren's apartment. She had been in a relatively good mood, even considered taking up Jacob's offer for some stuffed-pizza at Giordano's (diet, be damned). When she read the text for the first time, she thought Sam was pulling her long.

But then she reread it.

And again.

"What is it?" Jacob asked.

"Sasha and Vasili Denali were both found dead with two bullets in the head and stakes in their chest..." Leah slowly read.

Jacob froze. " _Come again_?"

Sasha and Vasili Denali, two important members of the Denali family—she knew about them. Every single employee at the Chicago Police Department knew about them. Heck, even those at the academy did as well. The family ran a criminal enterprise, just like the Cullen's and the Volturi, but was much more open about it.

Their leader was Tanya Denali. A gorgeous woman who created and ran a secret society in downtown Chicago (think Free Masons, but with a lot more money, even more secrecy and _a lot_ of vices—supposedly). No one knew who was on the member list. No one knew exactly where the society held its meetings or if the cocaine den (or the supernatural) rumors were true. But the police knew it _existed_ and had been spending the last twenty years trying to infiltrate.

They didn't want to involve the FBI.

The Denali's were also an integral aspect of what was referred to as the "blood trade." Similar to the illegal organ trade, the blood trade involved the distribution and selling of human blood (and at times, synthetic and animal "vegetarian" blood). This was a huge problem (and the ATF was _all_ over that), because of the rumors concerning where this blood came from. No one really knew, but even a rookie could hypothesize that it came from some "unlucky" humans.

Before learning about the supernatural, Leah had investigated a few cases involving the blood trade and its apparent omnipresence in some underground "vampire goth clubs." These clubs were just what Leah had thought them to be—dingy bars full of misguided teenagers and twenty-something years old, obsessed with the supernatural, completely turned on by the concept of drinking blood and had aspirations of doing whatever it took to become immortal. _It' a subculture_ ; Leah's old captain had told her. _More like a cult_ , in Leah's opinion.

Also, the Denalis had been in cahoots with the Cullen's for years, even agreeing to form a joint enterprise commonly referred to as the "Olympic." But rumor had it was that the families intended to strengthen their bond via marriage between Tanya and the Cullen's number two man. Now according to everyone, including Mike, that person was Jasper Whitlock, an enforcer, and a constant presence at court, serving as a family representative right beside the notorious Rosalie Hale. But Leah, for some reason she couldn't fathom, didn't think Jasper was the number two guy. She had witnessed interactions with Jasper and Carlisle, even before she had known about their vampirism, and they were strictly about business. No warm feelings at all—an oddity for a "family".

She could be wrong.

But identifying the number two guy was outside of her jurisdiction. That was Paul's problem.

However, with the Denali's… they were going to be everyone's problem because the family was a close-knit one. Much more than the Cullen's seemed to be. To them, family was _everything_ ; nothing came before the family, and if the family was attacked—

"Sasha and Vasili are both dead. Sam's on the case," Leah said, and then, "We gotta tell Paul."

"I have a feeling he already knows," Jacob said quietly, and then with more force, " _Fuck_."

* * *

"This is what's going to happen. We'll give him the evidence the moment we enter his office. Let him make the decision."

Leah listened to Jacob as they both walked into their precinct. It was eleven in the morning, and the place was bustling with everyone running around and the phone ringing off the hook. Leah tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone while Jacob greeted everyone with a wave or a fist bump— he was a personable guy, Leah wasn't, and she accepted that.

When she had entered the precinct for the first time, around a month ago, she had been concerned about the lukewarm reception she had received from everyone who hadn't been her captain or the secretary. It had been days since she had found about Sam and the involuntary transfer; she had admittedly been in a terrible mood, but only if everyone who wasn't Jacob had given her a chance...

She shook the thought of her head. This wasn't the time; not when she was expected to discuss with her captain about the new evidence that was about to go into police custody.

"The quicker this is done, the quicker we can get lunch," Leah said, painfully forming a smile. She ignored some of the looks from her coworkers; Paul had been right. Gossip spread like wildfire in this place.

* * *

Leah wasn't expecting to see Paul standing right inside her captain's office, with his hands in his pockets and a deep scowl, deeper than usual. Her supervisor was sitting behind his desk with his hands folded on top it, frowning. Not out of irritation or anger, but out of frustration; the lines on forming his forehead proved it.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Leah and Jacob took their seats in front of their captain and waited for either captain to speak.

Their captain did, tightening his hands and clearing his throat multiple times. He reached out for his coffee and said in a forlorn voice, "I'm sure you've heard about the Denali murders."

Both detectives nodded.

The captain looked at Leah. "Sam told you?"

Leah shoved her hands in her pockets. She didn't know what to say—she liked the captain; he had never given her many issues, so she had no reason to lie to him. She didn't think it was a big deal about Sam name-dropping the subjects of his newest investigation to someone from another precinct; there might have been a provision against it in the code of conduct, but no one paid attention to it.

"Yes," she quietly admitted. "He told me this morning. But—"

Leah was cut off by the captain's hand. He didn't appear upset with her, much to her chagrin. He didn't seem surprised at all. "I thought so," he said.

"Are you sure it's murder?" Jacob asked up. "Not murder-suicide?"

"Oh, it's murder," Paul replied. "People don't shove stakes into themselves. Not even _them_."

"Not even them," the captain repeated, now loosening his hands. "Well, I suppose you have some information to provide. Starting with the results from the warrant."

Jacob nodded and placed the plastic bag containing a box onto his boss' desk. "Yeah, this is something you need to see in person."

As Paul approached the desk, the captain gave the detectives a look before putting on gloves and carefully pulling the box out of the evidence bag. The moment he opened it, he immediately closed it.

Paul cursed.

"There was no problem retrieving it?" the captain asked carefully.

The detectives shook their heads.

"This doesn't get out to the press," Paul told the captain in a voice he generally used with unruly rookies.

The captain groaned, frustrated, as he reopened the box, revealing the most expensive thing he had ever seen in his life. A priceless diamond and ruby necklace. He then looked up at the other captain and said, annoyed, "They're going to find out—"

"I don't care how you do it, but suppress it. If this gets out, we're fucked."

"Why?" The captain challenged. "Because this is worth than all of the salaries and pensions put together? We've handled much more expensive merchandise."

Leah's eyebrows drew together as Jacob rose from his. Their captain—he must not have known about the necklace's owners. They both rose from their seats, sensing that the captains were moments away from engaging in a conversation that was beyond the detectives' pay grade.

"I'll leave you two—" Jacob started but was cut off by his captain.

"Both of you stay," the captain ordered, and then turned his attention back to Paul. "Captain?"

Paul didn't want to reply. The look on his face clearly showed he wanted to squash the entire conversation. But the captain looked determined; he wasn't to just let Paul leave without a proper explanation. "Because it belongs to Sulpicia Volturi."

Leah found it amazing how much her captain's expression changed when the realization dawned on him. "Excuse me?"

"She had reported it missing some time back. Even hired a couple of goons to—"

The captain looked beyond Paul and asked his detectives, "How the hell did this necklace end up in the Dahlia's possession?"

"That's what we're in the process of trying figure out, captain," Jacob quickly replied.

Leah nodded in agreement.

"Well, figure it out fast."

"So, I have a suggestion, and I'm pretty sure you're not going like this," Paul started. He had that expression on his face that was usually used for asking the chief for more resources. "But it would be in everyone's best interest if the necklace is put under my unit's custody."

Paul was right. The captain wasn't having it. The captain snorted and shook his head. "That necklace is prime evidence for the Dahlia case. Like Hell I'm going to release it to you."

"Hear me out: they're going to find out about the necklace. About the fact that we have it, and they're going to try to take it back." He looked at Jacob and Leah, and explained. "It's important to Sulpicia because it was like some wedding gift." He turned his attention back to the skeptical captain. "You can still use the evidence, but you know, and I know that they wouldn't _dare_ step foot in my precinct to retrieve it."

"You said that she was most likely connected to the Olympic," the captain asked his detectives, staring at the piece of jewelry, astonished and forlorn. "Did you not?"

"Yes," Jacob said.

"Fine," the captain reluctantly said, slamming a fist on the desk. "Paul, the necklace is yours," he decided, rolling his eyes at Paul's sigh of relief. "You guys are going to need this more than I do."

"But it's prime evidence, like you said," Leah contested, ignoring Jacob's pointed gaze. "We need it for the case."

"Oh, we're going to use it," the captain assured. "When there's a trial. For the meantime, Paul's unit is going to safeguard. None of those gangs would get their hands on it, am I right, Captain Lahote?"

"Absolutely," Paul said, smirking as he picked up the evidence. And then, "I think it's about time to talk about the joint initiative."

"Captain La—"

"A gang war is brewing, you know that."

"My people handle violent crime cases," the captain reminded Paul. "Major homicides, not gang wars."

"The Dahlia case _is_ connected to this upcoming gang war," Paul argues. "Look, I'm not asking for your entire squad to work with me..." he trailed off and stole a glimpse at the detectives. "Just them two."

Leah caught Jacob peeking at her out of the corner of her eye; he was waiting for her reaction. She didn't have one; she was caught in the middle.

"No."

"They're on the Dahlia case," Paul said. "We need them to work with us. They can still work on the case, but—"

"Why don't you ask the other Uley?" the captain interjected. "Isn't he on the Denali case?"

"I already did."

"And?"

"He's on board."

The captain sighed. "I'll give you an answer on Friday."

* * *

Following the meeting, Paul pulled both Leah and Jacob aside. After ensuring that they were out of sight of any onlookers or eavesdroppers, he said one name in a hushed voice, "Edward Masen."

Jacob was confused.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Paul, frustrated, rolled his eyes at both detectives. " _Your guy_ ," he clarified. "The one you asked about a couple of days back? Yeah, he works for the Cullen's."

Leah took a step forward. "Are you _sure_?"

"Positive," Paul said, "And he's not just a scrub."

Jacob frowned. "But you said—"

"I _know_ what I said, Jacob," Paul snapped, and then, "He's been working underground up until last month. I know a guy; said he knew this Edward and his description fit to a T."

"Can we arrest him?" Leah asked. "At least, for attempting to obstruct?"

"No can do, detective," Paul said. "He's off limits."

Leah couldn't believe her ears. "And why is that?"

"Because of the fucking Deal," Jacob grumbled, slamming a fist into his palm. "Well, that's just terrific. First major lead and we can't even bring him in."

"Not in our unofficial jurisdiction," Paul added, shaking his head. "But this information should prove helpful for your case even if you can't technically, well, legally, do anything with it."

"So," Leah started, rubbing her chin and staring off to the distance, musing. "I don't think he or the Cullen's did it." She explained when the men gave her curious looks. "Why would he incriminate himself and his employer by visiting Bella and he wasn't even sneaky about it? I mean, that would be just _stupid_."

"Are you saying that the Cullen's are covering someone else's work?" Jacob asked.

"Maybe they don't want anyone to find out. At all," Leah offered. "I mean, the Cullen's, they're, _you know_. If the autopsy goes through and it's made public, it may lead to assumptions…"

"It may out us all," Jacob said.

"Especially since the coroner's already decided that the bite killed Jessica on her neck," Leah added. "So, maybe the Cullen's didn't kill her, but they know her killer, and they don't want us to get involved in bringing those involved to justice."

"They want to do things their way—"

"Okay, but if you're going on the retaliation tangent, why retaliate by killing _her_?" Paul asked. "No offense, but she was a waitress, a college student. A _human_ , they shouldn't give a rat's ass about her. She's nothing in their eyes."

"Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with her, per se," Leah said. "Maybe it was something she was involved in. Or possessed?"

"They did that over a necklace?" Paul asked. "Then why is it now in our possession? They could have just taken it from Jessica's place... I don't think they knew she had it."

Jacob shook his head. "No, if they did, Lauren would've been dead as well."

"Exactly," Paul said. "So, using this theory, they or their friends were after something else."

"What we have to do is find out what she was doing that night," Jacob said. "What's up with all of these trips and things that she obviously couldn't afford to buy on her wages, and how she got that necklace…"

"The Cullens gave it to her?" Paul suggested.

"Why would they do that?" Jacob asked. "Unless they were trying to frame her, but no one would ever think a human would be able to pull that off. That necklace belongs to the Sulpicia of the Volturi."

"Or maybe someone from the Volturi did?" Leah suggested. "Who else could have gotten possession of it without worrying about being hunted down?"

"She could have been messing with both sides," Paul said. "As fucking crazy as that sounds. And there's another problem: the Denali's murders. Tanya Denali is in charge of that family and is no Carlisle Cullen. I _know_ she's out for blood."

"Looks like you have your plate full," Leah commented.

"Yeah, what else is new?" Paul said, rolling his eyes. "Look, I have a bad feeling about all of this, which is why I asked your captain about you two working with my people and others about this case… And I'm warning you; the feds are going to get involved."

"They don't have to," Leah insisted. "We do have this under control."

"Yeah, the last thing this department said that we had a goddamn month-long supernatural gang war. Why do you think my _special_ unit was created?"

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Newton."

"Oh, if only you two weren't goddamn cops…"

Jacob let out a hearty laugh as he entered Mike's office followed by his partner. Leah paused at the sight of the usual pristine Mike Newton, sitting at his desk, trying his best to sit up at his seat without wincing. He had a bandage wrapped around both hands and his face, though clean, had seen better things.

The visit, as usual, was unexpected and completely not on the detectives' radar until Paul had spoken to them the day prior.

"Rough night?" Leah asked, pulling up a chair and sitting only a few feet away from the small businessman.

"I rather not talk about it," Mike said, eyes screwing shut as he swiveled his chair to face the detectives. His usual smirk was forced.

He had a rough night.

Jacob sat down as well, leaned and studied the man obviously still in pain. He sighed after a few moments as he retreated. "They paid you a visit."

Mike cleared his throat. "I rather not talk about it."

"You're a Swiss player. Everyone knows that. What could the Volturi possibly be mad at you about?" Jacob asked.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" Mike gritted through his teeth. He let out a small but pained groan as he moved his hand. By accident, apparently.

"If they wanted you killed, you'd be dead already," Leah pointed out. She might not know exactly everything that Jacob did, but she knew how the Volturi operated. Everyone did.

Jacob put off hands up. "Okay fine, we won't talk about it." He carried on once Mike released a sigh of relief. "We have a question for you. Just one: hypothetically speaking, if you were a human, itching to work for the Olympic, what job would you do?"

Mike Newton nervously played with his hands. He looked up at the detectives sitting across from him before dropping his gaze. "I—I thought I told you that I didn't know anything about the Dahlia's murder… or what happened to the Denali's."

"We're _hypothetical_ ," Leah reassured him. Thank goodness for Mike's sake that he wasn't on the witness stand. Jenks would have eaten him alive and enjoy every moment of it.

"Oh, don't pull that bullshit with me," Mike snapped and then apologized after remembering that he was dealing with detectives who could and would personally deliver him to Jenks' office. "Sorry."

"Rough night?" Leah tried again.

Mike let out a dejected sigh. "Rough night.," he confirmed, sitting up in the seat. "Okay, so, hypothetically speaking: if I somehow managed to get into the Olympic, as a human, I would be nothing but a low-level associate. Nothing fancy."

"They're not a fan of humans," Leah concluded.

"It's not that… well, not exactly. According to them, humans make things complicated," Mike said. "They serve as a liability more than anything. So, any human working for them has a job not worth bragging about."

"A like a busboy?" Leah offered.

"Yeah, like a busboy."

"How about a mistress?" Jacob suggested. "A plaything?"

"A plaything," Mike said. "Not a mistress. Esme would've never allowed that."

"But she would allow a plaything?" Leah asked.

"Of course," Mike said nonchalantly with a shrug. "Hey, in their world, there's a big difference between the two. For one, most mistresses are vampires."

"Ah," Jacob said, nodding. "So, going along with this plaything-theory, besides the obvious, what does that entail?"

"It depends."

"On?"

"How much the boss trusts you."

"And what if he does?"

"He may let you go on a run or two," Mike's usual, conniving smirk finally appeared. "As an _incentive_."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

* * *

 _Leah, please, talk to me_ —Emily, 1:00 pm

 _I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but can we just talk_ —Emily, 1:01 pm

 _For heaven's sake, Leah. We can't go on like this. Almost five weeks of silence? We're family_ —Emily, 2:17 pm.

 _Are we?_ —Leah, 2:50 pm.

 _Leah, please_ —Emily, 2:51 pm.

 _I'm at work_ —Leah, 2:51 pm.

 _There's nothing to discuss_ —Leah, 2:53 pm.

* * *

"I can't believe you've made it."

"Shut up, Paul."

"No, seriously, I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah, I am, too," Leah said, giving the captain a genuine smile. Coming here had been wise; she needed to get her mind off the Dahlia case. She needed to get her mind off of Emily, who didn't seem to understand the fact that her cousin didn't want to see her ever again. She needed to get her mind off of Sam—It was nice to get out the house and spend time with some of her coworkers, even if Sam would there (wisely avoiding her), and Seth—

 _Oh Seth_ , no matter how much Leah wanted to talk him out of it, she couldn't convince her brother not to apply to join the police department. And it didn't help that the guys, including Paul, were basically treating him as if he was already a rookie.

"I need a beer," she told Paul. "Or Two."

Paul grinned and pointed at the bar table, located about fifteen feet from him and Leah. "My buddy, Quil, over there, will hook you up. Just give him your name."

And that was just what Leah did, after greeting everyone she knew and didn't know, she headed straight to the bar, where the man she assumed was Quil was making drinks with another bartender.

Leah gave him her name.

Quil recognized it.

"How much do I owe?" Leah asked.

"Your drinks are on the house," Quil told Leah. "But don't get carried away because you will be on the news."

Leah blinked a few times, wondering if she had misheard the bar owner, currently serving as the bartender. He seemed dead serious, though. Clearing her throat, she glanced between the increasingly boisterous crowd and Quil. "But why?"

Quil had to chuckle. "You're asking me why you don't need to pay for your drinks." He laughed again. "The first time I've ever heard that. Anyway, Paul said you'd need it, and I owe Paul _a lot_ of things so… drinks on the house. One cold beer coming up."

As Quil turned away to fetch Leah a cold one, Leah quickly pulled out her wallet and smacked a ten on the bar table. When Quil returned, he noticed the bill, glared at it as if it had personally offended him and his mother and looked up at Leah. "Hey, you don't—"

" _Tip_ ," Leah said, leaving absolutely no room for discussion. She smiled triumphantly when Quinn finally saw the light, relented and thanked Leah for the tip, low enough for Paul not to hear. "Thanks again."

Quil reluctantly pocketed the money. "Yeah, no problem."

* * *

As Leah walked around the bar, striking small conversations with everyone including most of Paul's unit, Jacob, Embry (Jacob's "protégé"), and Jared and their respective significant others, she stole a glance at Sam. He caught her eyes, and it seemed that time had stopped. They had both arrived at the bar separately, at vastly different times. They could both blame it on their shifts; it wouldn't have entirely been a lie.

Leah forced a smile—they needed to be civil; it was the adult-thing to do—and Sam raised his beer bottle. She supposed everything would be fine for the rest of the night.

But a part of her, a selfish part, wished that Paul hadn't extended the invitation to her husband. She understood why Paul _had;_ the two had been acquaintances for years. Paul probably didn't want to make the situation even more awkward.

Leah and Sam hadn't talked much about heading to the bar, but they had a shared understanding that the less they interacted with each other, the better the experience would be.

It was fine. Sam could spend time with the guys and her little brother (who still didn't know about his sister's situation, and Leah planned to keep it that way). He appeared more relaxed than he had been in weeks; nothing in his features showed stress about his marital woes or the Denali case.

It was also fine because she didn't have to be alone. Sitting across from her was an old friend of her and Paul's, Aisha St. Pierre, another detective working on the west side of Chicago. A lovely woman in her late-thirties with more energy than half of the rookies on the force. And a dear friend. Leah liked her; Aisha wasn't a bull-shitter like most of the people she worked with. And she knew how hard it was for women to break the glass ceiling of the department, especially minorities. Especially with her being black, and with Leah being Native American.

"How are you?"

"I should be asking you that question," Aisha said, grinning and pulling Leah into a hug before sitting back down. "I'm fine, by the way. For the past couple of years, I haven't had anything resembling a social life, until tonight— which I completely accepted giving my line of work. And you?"

"It's been good, even with the Dahlia-shit storm," Leah said, slowly nodded, revealing her doubt. "I mean, I still have to deal with the never-ending paperwork and the occasional assholes. But I got a new partner. Been with him for a little over a month and I haven't thought about shooting him once."

"Impressive," Aisha said, nodding. "He should be honored."

"He should."

"Is he still mooning over Bella?"

"He insists it's just a crush," Leah replied. "Claims he has no intentions on pursuing her."

"Yeah, his last marriage ended pretty badly... also as bad as yours at the moment."

"Thanks."

"That's not what I meant," Aisha insisted. "I mean, you know... there was a lack of communication going on, and you know how much Jacob loves to play Captain Save-Everyone with complete disregard to his well-being. She couldn't take it."

Leah wondered if Jacob's former wife knew about him. _The real him_.

"She was a nice lady, just wasn't a cop-wife," Aisha mused and shrugged. "It ain't easy."

"That's for damn sure."

A comfortable silence fell between the friends, until Aisha spoke up, "Still good with French?"

Leah raised an eyebrow as she drank some of her beer. "Oh, it's gonna be one of _those_ conversations."

"Those guys over there have some inhuman sense of hearing," Aisha pointed out, already switching languages. "I should know. Anyway, I think the only person over there who has some background in French is Jared, and apparently, he only took it in high school." She switched back to English. "So, how about it?"

"Fine," Leah replied in French. She was practically fluent. Fluent enough to pass the force's language test with flying colors. She was a bit of a Francophile, studying the language in high school and college. Going abroad for a couple of years. Seriously considered teaching English in France, but then she had received a call back from CPD about heading to the police academy. She couldn't toss that opportunity aside.

"Have you two talked?"

Leah didn't have to ask what her friend was referencing. After another swig of her beer, she said, sighing, "I've tried."

"And?"

"He's avoiding it at all costs," Leah replied somewhat bitterly. "Said he doesn't want to talk about. At least, not now."

"Ah, he doesn't want to talk about him sleeping with your cousin. When does he want to?"

"Good question," Leah replied in English, and then switched back, stealing a glance of her husband, who was conversing with Quil about the hockey game. "Good question. And with my case going on and his, the talk is not going to happen anytime soon. We barely see each other anymore."

"What about her?"

"Haven't spoken to her since finding out," Leah said, shaking her head. "I'm not ready for that."

"Understandable," Aisha said. "Does your mother about this?"

"She knows what happened?'

"Does she about _her_?"

Leah couldn't tell her mother. Not anyone time soon. Not with the wedding happening in two weeks. Not with the fact that the happily-married Uley's were expected to share the table with the Clearwater's and Emily and her small family.

She could only imagine the chaos that would bring: her mother would try to confront Emma. Seth would try to fight Sam because even though Seth loved to annoy his older sister, Leah was still his sister.

"No," Leah said, adamant, causing her friend to raise an eyebrow. "For heaven's sake, Aisha, we have a family wedding in a few weeks. My entire family, from both sides, is going to be there. That's the _last_ thing I need."

Aisha put her two hands up, backing off. But Leah could tell she had many questions. Heck, she had some for herself, but this wasn't the place to talk about her failing marriage. Not when Sam was at the other side of the only-so-big bar, doing everything in his God-given power to avoid his wife's gaze— _It could've been worse_ , Leah concluded, he could've been bold enough to invite Emily.

"I think he's an idiot for doing that to you, not suicidal," Aisha said, eyes inconspicuously past Leah and onto Sam. She shook her head and sighed. "Did he give you a reason? An excuse?"

"It's complicated," Leah said, deadpanned. "His words."

" _Woo_ , good luck to you, girl."

"Thanks, I'm going to need it," Leah said, and then, "Okay, no more about me. What's up with you?"

Aisha's expression turned solemn. "Tiffany is heading to Afghanistan."

"What?"

"Yeah, another tour..." Aisha muttered. She stopped to put her almost black, medium-length, thin braids into a bun. "She got the orders a couple of days back. I've been pretty calm about it, but you gotta give me a few more days before I start panicking. I highly advise you to clear your calendar on that day."

Leah reached out and took Aisha's hand in hers. "I'll do my best," she softly replied. "Everything'll turn out fine."

"I sure hope so... Anyway, so I got new orders from my captain a couple of days back. I'm going to be working with Paul for quite some time. Probably until the end of the year."

Leah leaned forward. "What?"

"Only temporarily," Aisha said, glancing behind her where Paul was, as expected, destroying Seth at the pool table. "For a case. Apparently, my brief stint at the ATF means I'm an expert in everything illegal arms-related."

"Yeah, I heard it's getting hot over there."

"Yes, it is," Aisha said, expression remained impassive as she downed some more beer. "I know I shouldn't be mentioning this, but you know about the Deal, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Makes this job easier to know how people operate differently depending on whom they're dealing with. Paul told you about what's about to happen?"

"It's not a sure thing."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Aisha said. "I know how these people operate. Give it two weeks."

"So quick?"

"You've heard about Demetri?" Aisha asked, and continued when Leah shook her head. "You didn't. You wouldn't. A pair of detectives back in my district is handling it. He was found dead with a bullet to the head. He works for the Volturi, you know, and they aren't going to be happy."

Demetri. He was an enforcer of some sort. He was known around northern Illinois as the one to go after those who were indebted to the Volturi. He was also rumored to "recruit" young women into the Volturi.

This was even worse than the Denali murders. Leah cleared her throat and finished her beer. "So, what's going to happen with that?"

Aisha shrugged. "Don't know. I'm just going to carry on with my work. But Paul—bless him, is all I gotta say. And the ATF's having a field once again. Word on the street is that there's a new weapon in town."

"Ultra-violets."

Aisha nodded. "Ultra-violets," she repeated, slowly nodding. "Bullets made out of the sun. Literally." She let out a snort. "Who would've thought?" She then raised an eyebrow. "You know about them?"

"Let's just say it's come up during our Dahlia investigation."

"Huh, interesting. So, the rumors are true after all?"

It was Leah's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Rumors," she whispered. "What rumors?"

"That her death was a mob hit," Aisha said, and then, "I know a guy. An informant with a complete disregard for self-preservation who may or may not run a particular agency that pair off pretty, unsuspecting young folks with the rich men and women with less than savory backgrounds. Shady, but knows his shit. You want his contact?"

Leah cleared her throat and glanced to her left where she could see Jacob attempting to show Seth how to beat Paul. He looked like he was having a heck of a time. "Do I need it?"

"Your victim, based on what you've told me, was probably a sugar baby who got caught up with the wrong people," Aisha pointed out. "Yeah, you're gonna need it."

"Does this person have records of interactions with Jessica?"

"I highly doubt it," Aisha said. "Everything's off the books, and he has a strict no-testifying policy." When Leah gave her a look, she further explained. "He's valuable. Valuable enough to make some concessions." She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and quickly scribbled on it. "Here."

Leah thanked her friend. "Alistair," she read out, trying to see if the name rang a bell. It did. "I thought he got deported after the St. Patrick's dumpster fire?"

"Yeah, but he has friends in high places," Aisha said. "I don't know how, but he managed to snag diplomatic status with an understanding that he has to help the police department, well, me, in return."

Leah slowly nodded. "The superintendent got a hold of him..."

"You know how it is around here," Aisha said. "Hey, call the man."

* * *

"Alistair?" Jacob questioned, studying the contact information that been provided by Aisha the previous night. "Wasn't he deported?"

"The higher powers got a hold of him before ICE could," Leah explained, putting on her seat belt.

"Oh... _oh_. And you want to do what? Talk to him?"

Leah nodded. She could tell Jacob wasn't too keen on the idea. Honestly, she wasn't either, but she had faith in Aisha's intel. The detective had spent the past several years butting heads and working closely with the criminal underworld. She had been the one to introduce Leah to Mike Newton. "Aisha said it was a good idea."

Jacob respected Aisha as well; he had worked with her on a couple of illegal arms cases back when he was in the contraband unit. But he had his doubts about Alistair. "Yeah..."

"Jacob, it's for the case," Leah stressed, practically seeing her partner's blood pressure skyrocket. She wasn't expecting this reaction. "Aisha had reached out to him earlier this morning. He said he would be willing to talk somewhat—you know how it is with informants."

"I know, but…" Jacob noticed Leah's eyes on him and did make a concerted effort to relax, but he didn't entirely succeed. "I don't like his kind."

Leah blinked. "Kind?" and then quietly gasp. _Of course_. "He's a vampire." She continued when Jacob nodded. "Okay, but for now, make believe he's only human."

Jacob snorted. "Easier said than done."

Leah narrowed her eyes. He was hiding something from her; she could feel it because talking to a vampire about something work-related usually didn't bother Jacob—She changed the subject. "Heard anything about Bella?"

"She said she was fine," Jacob said; the tone of his voice suggested otherwise, at least in his opinion. "No more late-night visits from Edward—everything's fine except for the new body that came in yesterday."

"Demetri from the Volturi." Leah nodded. "I heard about him."

"She's catching on."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Bella," Jacob curtly replied, shaking his head. "She's noticing that the bodies: Demetri's, Sasha and Vasili's are reacting differently to decomposition than humans."

"She doesn't know…" Leah realized, and then, "How is it that she doesn't know? She _works_ with the dead for a living."

"She's only been in this city for a few years," Jacob reasoned. "She has enough on her plate—"

"You have to tell her."

"Yeah _, I know_." Jacob gave Leah a slight glare. "Now, I no longer have much of a choice."

* * *

It wasn't until they reached the lobby of a downtown hotel, Alistair's residence when Leah had finally had enough with her partner's moodiness. Grabbing onto one of Jacob's arms, she held him back from entering the elevator bank. He didn't put up much of a fight.

Looking up, straight into Jacob's eyes, Leah asked, "Are you going to tell me what's up with you, or do I have to force it out?"

Jacob looked away, frowning; his attention rested on the hotel only twenty feet from where he was standing. He was tense again; just as much as he was back in the park. "It's a long story," he admitted after a huff.

Leah held back any desire to question him further about the matter. "But you'll be fine in there?"

Jacob's frown was quickly replaced by his usual grin, except it wasn't genuine. It was the stop-questioning-me-I'm-fine smile. "I'm a damn cop, Leah. I'll be fine."

Leah wasn't entirely convinced, but she released her partner's arm and patted his shoulder. "Good." As she entered the lobby, she was held back by her partner. "Jacob, what—"

"Leah, listen to me," Jacob said a stern, authoritative voice. He had Leah's attention. "No matter what he says or does, do not pull out your weapon.

Leah raised an eyebrow, moving aside as some guests walked past her; this was the first time she had received such a request since joining the force; she didn't like it. " _What_?"

"None of those bullets are going to harm him; they'll only get in the way. Antagonize him." Jacob explained. "Don't worry. I won't let him touch you."

"No offense, but I think we have the same gun. Your bullets aren't going to work either."

"Who said I was going to use them?"

* * *

Alistair had the entire 30th floor to himself. It was the last floor of the hotel; a floor that had dimmed lighting through the sound-proofed highways, an attendant standing obediently in the elevator bank, essentially checking in the detectives; no one was allowed on the floor with an appointment, the young _human_ man informed them before walking the guests to his employer's front door.

The front door was monitored by a guard, standing just as tall and strong as Jacob. Jacob didn't seem fazed, and Leah tried to fix her face as expressionless as possible, but deep inside, there was a sliver of her that was worried. She was meeting a vampire; a man she knew was a vampire. Not a man who she assumed to be human, and then later discovered to be a vampire—no, he was relatively out of the supernatural closet.

"Weapons," the guard demanded.

Leah took a step back, her hand on her Glock, looking up at the guard, taken aback. She couldn't give up her issued-weapon to a man who was most likely operating on the other side of the law.

"It's fine," Jacob said, pulling out his gun and placing it into the guard's hand. "Not going to work on him anyway."

Leah reluctantly followed his lead.

Because she trusted Jacob.

* * *

"Detective Black and Detective Uley, I have been expecting you," the man named Alistair greeted, standing a few feet behind his door with his guard still standing at the doorway. Alistair gave Jacob a once-over and smirked. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Detective Black?"

"It has."

Leah glanced at her partner, taken aback. He hadn't mentioned anything about knowing the man in the past. She couldn't think of that now. "Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to meet up with us," she said. "We really do appreciate it."

Alistair raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. "Do you? I thought I would never see the day the Chicago Police Department thanks _me_. Please, come on in," and then abruptly, he leaned in and deeply inhaled, eyes closed. "Your perfume, _your scent_ , it's to die for. Exquisite…" He opened them, revealing the change from amber irises to red. "What brand are you wearing?"

Before Leah could tell the man to back the hell up before she did it for him, Jacob stepped into between them. "She's _not_ interested," he growled.

 _Interested_? Leah raised an eyebrow. _In what_?"

Alistair seemed to get the point; he backed up, and his eyes returned to their normal color. "Hm… such a waste," he said, resuming his walk, occasionally glancing back to Leah, smirking while completely disregarding Jacob's heated glare.

Leah avoided eye contact with the man as she tried to suppress the shudder traveling throughout her body. Alistair made her uncomfortable, not because she feared, but because he had a dark aura about her. A snaky aura that couldn't be trusted— but Aisha had sworn by him, and she had to give the vampire the benefit of the doubt.

She had to do so for the both of them— herself and her partner— because Jacob had a skeptical glint in his eyes. He watched Alistair's movements, even the subtle ones, like a hawk, scowling.

Leah became _very_ interested in the history between Jacob and Alistair; their behavior towards each other seemed too personal.

She stayed behind Jacob as they finally entered the suite. Penthouse, more than anything. Alistair's residence reminded Leah of the one Jessica Stanley had been murdered in, except much larger, and instead of the baroque-style decorations, the room screamed Edwardian-era. Like Downtown Abbey, a show that Leah had adored until the very end.

As she followed Jacob and Alistair, Leah caught sight of a large, chilled crystal jug full of red, thick liquid. She told herself it was tomato juice, forcing down any desires to vomit. It wasn't the first time she saw the red liquid, and it would not be the last, but _never_ in that circumstance.

When the detectives finally entered the living room space, glamorous in its style and the numerous, priceless paintings on the wall, Alistair turned around, facing the detectives, "Would you like something to drink?"

" _No_ ," Jacob said before his partner could open her mouth. He could feel Leah's curious eyes on him, but all he did was glance back to give her _the_ look. She got the point.

She had never seen Jacob so on-guard before. It was as if the two had been walking into a den full of gangsters, all armed, all ready to shoot at them at every moment. Alistair didn't look like the average gangster though. His presence screamed pretentious, especially his outfit, all probably costing more than her salary.

Alistair didn't appear to be, by the slightest, bothered by Jacob's behavior. He didn't seem surprised at all. He gave the detectives a small but forced smile before leading them to the living room area.

"Please, sit," Alistair offered. His eyes remained on the detectives as the pair sat on the couch in front of him. After sitting himself, he continued. "So, I was informed by Detective St. Pierre that you wanted to speak to me. I hope you don't have a subpoena on you—it won't work."

"Yes, we've heard about your _diplomatic_ connections," Jacob said. "Don't worry; we ain't gonna arrest you."

Alistair clapped. "Great! What can I help you with?"

Leah's eyes roamed around the living room, still amazed by the decorations. The place was beautiful. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Alistair?" she asked. The man had to be loaded to afford all of those paintings. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I run a match-making, talent-orientated business."

Jacob snorted. "You run a brothel."

Leah cleared her throat.

"What I do to finance for my lifestyle isn't illegal," Alistair insisted. "I am in the contraband trade. I am not in the business of killing humans or extorting anyone—none of that."

"But you're a pimp," Jacob accused.

"Oh, pimp is such a… dirty word." Alistair said, waving dismissively. "I like to believe that I run a talent agency or a matchmaker one, depending on how you see it. I do not force any of my employees to do anything they do not wish to partake in. I introduce them to clients who have different and _legal_ demands, and I take a commission. Not all of their money. I am certainly not a _pimp_."

The man's answer didn't move Leah. In her eyes, he should be arrested for something, but unfortunately, there wasn't a reasonable cause. He was absolutely right; a "talent agency" wasn't illegal.

"Your employees," Jacob said, and then asked. "Girls?"

" _Girls_?" Alistair shook his head, seemingly taken aback, apparently offended by the accusations. "Goodness, no, Detective. If you have not noticed, there is a lovely law on the books regarding statutory rape and solicitation of minors. Not worth the consequences—I have a strict adult-only policy."

Leah stole a glance at her partner's slightly puzzled face. Jacob hadn't actually meant _girls_ , but she supposed it was nice to know that Alistair wasn't involved in child exploitation, at least, not at face value. "So, just women, then?"

"Oh no, have an open mind, Detective. Women are lovely, no doubt about it, but not everyone… requests their services. Exclusively."

"How many?" Jacob asked.

"That is not relevant to this conversation, is it, Detective Black?" Alistair said.

"I suppose not," Leah answered for Jacob. "So, Mr. Alistair, we are not here to talk to about your business, we're here to talk about your knowledge of the Dahlia case."

"The Dahlia case? I didn't know the Black Dahlia case was under the jurisdiction of the Chicago Police Department. I thought I was strictly LAPD's problem… and hasn't it been more than seventy years?"

Leah gave Alistair a dirty look.

"Oh, come on, Alistair," Jacob snapped. "You know _exactly_ what she's referring to."

Alistair's slow smirk said he said. With a snap of his fingers, his butler arrived, holding a tray with a glass full of "tomato juice." Alistair took it, drank a lot of it in seemingly one gulp and returned it to the tray, waving away his employee. "Sorry," he said, amused by the badly-masked look of disgust on Leah's face. "I was a bit hungry—Now, where were we? Ah yes, the Dahlia murder. The _Chicago Dahlia_ murder. I know about the case, perhaps even the circumstances, but I cannot give you many details."

"You can't or you won't?" Jacob asked.

"Cannot," Alistair said. "I have inklings, but nothing's been confirmed. I like to stay out of people's business; it makes my job so much easier—"

"Did you know her?"

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

After sharing a knowing look with her partner, Leah dug into her pocket and opened a half-folded piece of paper. She handed to the vampire. "Her."

Alistair studied the photo. "Ah, _her_ ," and then, "Jessica Stanley."

"So, you know her?" Leah asked.

"Define: know, Detective."

Jacob grumbled under his breath.

"I do not see the point in lying," Alistair admitted, handing the paper back to Leah. "She was one of my girls."

"Women," Jacob corrected, just to be snarky.

" _Women_ ," Alistair repeated, and then, "She was one of my women. A relative novice. I've been working with for… I suppose, not even two years. It is such a shame what happened to her. So violent and unfortunate."

"So, you can admit that she worked for you?" Jacob wanted to clarify.

"Yes."

"Why hire her?" Leah asked.

"Why not?" Alistair said with a shrug. "She was an attractive, little thing. A college student looking for adventure, more excitement in her life and money. She was also quite liberal with her tastes…"

"She came to you for money?" Leah asked.

"She came to me for a little help," Alistair clarified. "She had a friend from her school or workplace who was having some monetary issues—something about her father and investors—and she wanted a loan. I do that, you know, issue loans, but with a fixed low-interest rate," and then, "I am not a loan shark."

"Nice to know," Leah replied, deadpanned. She glanced at her side—Jacob's suspicious eyes were still on the vampire in front of him; he didn't look like he wanted to be the ones asking questions, so Leah asked another one. "Why didn't you give her the loan? It could've been a one-and-done thing. You wouldn't be receiving a visit from us."

Jacob leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

Alistair took one look at the detective, raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and replied, not only removing his eyes from Jacob. "I did give her the loan," he said, "But she wanted more. She wanted, no, needed, companionship with benefits. See, she was one of those ladies—and men—who thought that money and luxury items and exclusive trips would solve their problems. I made her an offer; she took it, quite eagerly."

"And with whom was she seeking companionship?"

"Well, the only people who could afford her tastes."

"And in the wealthy, you mean criminals," Jacob said.

Alistair shrugged. "Not necessarily."

"And I suppose you can't disclose your client-list?" Leah asked.

Alistair cleared his throat. He was evasive with the names, to no one's surprise; honestly, Leah would have been personally disappointed if he had. He was in the escort business, and that business demanded secrecy. If Alistar had told her the name, Leah didn't think she would possess one ounce of respect for him.

"Of course, not."

 _The Cullens._

The family must have been one of Alistair's clients, Leah thought. The head of the family must have spent time with Jessica—Perhaps Mike knew what he was talking about after all.

Leah nodded rose from her seat, with Jacob following suit. "I think that will be all for today." She checked with Jacob, who agreed with her. "Thank you for all of your help, Mr. Alistair—actually, there is one last question. In your honest opinion, Mr. Alistair, who do you think did it?"

"Well, I'm sure you've heard of the saying: all that glisters is not gold," Alistair said. "That came from Shakespeare, I believe. From the _Merchant of Venice_ , Act II, Scene Seven. Fantastic play. Have you read it?"

"In college," Leah admitted and then, "Do you have a suggestion, an actual name?"

Alistair it out a chuckle. "I know you both are only doing your jobs, and I have to say, I think you are doing such splendidly. However, it would be advisable for you to let the case run cold. Not only for your sake. For the sake of this city, as well as your employer. Even if you find the young lady's killer, you won't be able to do much. Not with the Deal in place. It would only be a waste of time. Let the families battle it out for themselves."

"That's not going to happen," Jacob said.

Leah straightened her stance. "It's our job to get to the bottom of this case," she added and then paused. Something came to mind; something Alistair had just said—the families. This whole thing was a part of a dispute between _the families_. The Cullen's and the Denali's versus one of their adversaries—she cleared her throat. "Mr. Alistair, answer me this: why would the families battle it out, as you say it, ever Jessica? A mere human? A college student with no connections?"

Jacob waited for the vampire's response.

Alistair's eyes locked with Leah's. "Who said it was about her?"

* * *

"Are you saying that Jessica Stanley served as _collateral_?"

"There's a dispute among the Olympic and the Volturi crime families," Jacob later explained to his captain a few hours after leaving Alistair's residence. "There's been one for years, and Jessica, sadly, was caught in the middle of it."

"Why would she do such a stupid thing and get involved with _them_?" the captain asked.

"She liked the lifestyle," Leah explained. "She liked the money, the name-brands, the trips. I mean, she was just a waitress. Maybe she thought that being involved with them was the only way she could get money. The type of money she wanted."

"A deal gone bad," Paul suggested.

"So, it was a set-up," the captain concluded.

"No," Paul replied. "No, Jessica's death wasn't a part of the plan. Wasn't a part of the Olympic's plan."

"Someone must've interfered," Leah offered.

"The Volturi…" Jacob provided.

"Or maybe the lovely Chicago Dahlia was playing for both teams. Willingly or unwittingly," the captain said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. "Say she was going through on a deal for the Olympic. The Olympic only does business with a select number of organizations. Therefore, the person on the other side of the deal had to have been an Olympic ally."

"The ally could have been playing on both teams," Jacob added, using his captain's vernacular.

The captain snapped his fingers. "Could be. That's why I said it was a set-up. The two-timing ally must have notified the Olympic's enemies about the transaction, and they decided to crash the party."

"But why the _violence?_ " Leah asked; the image of Jessica's slain body still remained fresh in her mind. "If whoever wanted to get Jessica out of the way, even if she was just collateral, why disembowel her? Why cut her up after killing her?"

"Why does anyone do that?" Paul said with a nonchalant shrug. "To send a message."

"To whom?" Leah bounced back. "To the Olympic? To—?"

"Us," Jacob suggested. "It was for _us_. It was to tell _us_ , the police department, the press, the general population, to stay the out of their business." He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his thighs, resting his chin on her palms. He carried on as everyone exchanged wary looks. "For us, the main crime was Jessica' murder. Of course, it was. But for them, she was nothing. She just got in the way— whoever did this was after something else."

"And Jessica was just collateral," the captain said.

An uncomfortable silence fell among the cops. They had a lead, nothing they could bring into court, nothing that Jenks would accept, but they had a lead. They might have even had a motive, or at least, a part of it.

Paul was the first one to speak again. With his attention solely onto the captain, with a look of determination in his eyes, he asked, "Have you decided on the new… mission starting in a couple of weeks? This investigation is eventually going to be placed under my unit. You know it's just a matter of time."

"It could be a joint-initiative."

"Whatever you call it. Doesn't matter to me," Paul said.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt your side meeting," Jacob jumped in. "But what is this new mission you're talking about? It sounds dangerous. Like beyond Leah's and my pay grade- dangerous."

Leah rolled her eyes.

Paul smirked.

"Your detectives, Black. _Veterans at this job_ —you'll be fine," the captain said. "As far as I know, it's no more dangerous than your other high-profile cases. And Captain Lahote has ensured me that you will not be going on an undercover assignment—is that right, Captain Lahote?"

Paul's smirk didn't falter. "Absolutely."


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

* * *

This hadn't been the plan.

This was _far_ from the plan.

Leah swallowed before carefully retrieving her 9mm Glock from her holster, positioning it between her legs. She crouched behind the wall, in a position only a foot away from an opening that once housed a door. Around her were mounds of wooden and steel pallets. All varying in different sizes; some empty, some not.

Leah's eyes roamed around the poorly-lit area in search of her partner. She breathed a sigh of relief when she eventually caught sight of Jacob, partially hiding behind a steel pallet at the other side of the large room with his weapon out. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration while he listened for any out-of-place movements, and patiently waiting for an adversary's head to appear in the clearing.

They locked eyes and Jacob motioned for Leah to stay put.

And stay put, Leah did.

The plan was to simply follow a lead, sweep around an abandoned warehouse with Midway Airport in the distance and gather some evidence. Earlier, they had received a tip from one of Paul's sergeants that two weeks before her untimely demise, Jessica had been seen in this very dingy, cold and dark warehouse, engaging in a conversation with two guys. The tip had initially come from a homeless man who had occasionally frequented this area—it had been Leah's idea to check the area out before calling it a day. A decision she was currently regretting.

The sweep was supposed to be a quick thing. A half an hour _tops_.

"How many?" Leah mouthed.

Jacob held up one finger, and then, two.

Leah cursed under her breath.

This was the aspect of her job she would never get used to. These tense moments were for people like Sam or Paul, who both loved the thrill and the anticipation. Those who still harbored some romanticism towards engaging with another with a weapon. It gave them an adrenaline rush. It gave Leah anxiety.

Leah snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of creaking movements from beyond the opening. Thanks to a faded mirror that was conveniently hanging from the door frame she saw some shuffling and an outline of a person, holding a gun, a _Springfield XD-S_ , Leah presumed. Without checking with her partner, she briefly moved from her position and fired two more shots.

She missed.

 _Fuck_ , the man was fast.

She could feel Jacob's disapproving eyes on her as she retreated to her previous position. Leveling her breathing, she checked her gun magazine and cursed under her breath. She only had two bullets left; she couldn't afford to waste it on air and rotting wooden pallets.

Her focus shifted from the opening to the other side of the room, where she could see Jacob stealthy retreating to the corner, effectively hiding in the shadows. The only proof that he was still there was the presence of a glowing object her partner was pulling out his pocket and loading into the gun.

She remained in place as Jacob inched forward, and then took a couple of giant steps. He was in the clearing, using a steel pallet as his shield. Leah wanted to warn him, but deep inside, she knew he wouldn't listen. He was in the zone. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he raised the gun in his hands, aiming it right in front of him. He took a couple of noticeably deep breaths before pulling the trigger.

It was fast. It always was. She watched on as the force of the bullet piercing through a pallet, striking one of the shooters between the eyes, throwing the man's head back, forcing him onto the ground. His pistol dropped from his frozen hands.

Leah glanced at her partner, waiting for his next move. Jacob remained in position, seemingly frozen, the barrel of his gun was still trained to the clearing in front of him; his ears occasionally twitched, listening out for any sounds that Leah wouldn't pick up.

One man down, but Leah couldn't celebrate. The man hadn't been alone; his partner had to still be around the moon-lit warehouse, hiding behind thick wooden columns, scarcely painted walls and pallets

After a few gulps, Leah decided to join her partner by his side. She made it a couple of feet from the wall, but then immediately recoiled at the sound of another gunshot. It wasn't from her gun, and it wasn't from Jacob's— Her eyes widened in horror as she watched her partner make a few staggered steps in retreat, quickly returning his gun into the holster before slapping a hand over the weapon. One shot to the upper arm—he cursed against, slamming against the column.

" _Shit_!"

"Ja—" Leah stopped, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention.

Figuring the coast was clear, Leah made a break for it, but before she could reach Jacob, she noticed a man slowly appearing from the shadows. The dim light obscured his profile, but he roughly was six-foot-tall, pale and skinny with light brown hair dressed in a black suit. He had a gun loosely hanging in one hand, and a snarl playing on his lips.

" _Freeze_!" Jacob ordered.

Leah immediately pointed her weapon at the shooter and carefully rushed across the damp alley and towards Jacob in efforts to block him from the offender. "Freeze, police! Drop the gun!" she demanded as a finger ghosted along the trigger.

The man deeply inhaled and exhaled, nostrils flaring, eyes shifting from amber to black. "You smell mighty delicious..."

Leah took a step back. "Don't move!"

" _Your_ bullets won't do a damn thing to me," the man taunted, glancing between both detectives. He seemed more concerned about Jacob than Leah. She didn't get it. She was one aiming for a fatal shot—

 _Dog_. He had called Jacob a dog. Was he referencing his wolf? How did this man know about Jacob? And why was he talking about the way she smelled?

Her eyes widened.

 _Shit_.

"Ah, looks like we have a human who isn't as foolish as the rest..."

Leah considered making the shot. She had every right to do so, but at the back of her mind, she doubted Jacob would want her to do it. He was holding back for some unfathomable reason, bleeding against the stony and cold wall of an abandoned warehouse, not even making an effort to call for extra help.

The man's amber eyes flickered past Leah. "The dog's finally down. _Splendid_."

"Your aim is shit," Jacob taunted. "Can't believe you'd waste a silver bullet on an arm. Completely missed the opportunity."

" _Fuck you_."

Jacob snorted. "Some leech, you are…"

Leah resisted the urge to peek at her partner and demand just what the fuck was happening. He had been shot; it wasn't fatal; it wasn't a chest or a head wound. She did remember Jacob mentioning in passing about his abilities to heal at an incredible rate. But still, he was bleeding profusely and appeared more concerned than expected.

She had to act.

Leah gulped, dropped one hand from the handle of her weapon and reached for her walkie talkie. This wasn't something she and Jacob (especially him) could do by themselves.

She pushed down on the "on" button. "Report—"

 _"No!"_

She immediately released the button. "What?"

"Don't call anyone. For help or backup," Jacob commanded. "Don't."

Leah blinked but didn't remove her gaze from the man. The request was extremely bizarre, not to mention dangerous and reckless. Someone had just shot at a cop, and Jacob was refusing outside help. "Jacob—"

She locked eyes with the assailant as she heard Jacob shifting in the background. Neither person moved a muscle— Leah didn't understand why he didn't charge after her. After all, he claimed her bullets wouldn't affect him. He should be shooting at her. Should be shooting at Jacob again, but he remained frozen in his spot. His shifty eyes told the detective that he was weighing his options in the middle of a cross-benefit analysis. Completely unsure about his next move. And still, despite having Leah's gun on him, he didn't fear her.

It was an odd thing to see, Leah had to admit. She was usually good at instilling the fear of God in suspects (second to Paul, her in opinion), but her glares and her gun weren't doing a damn thing.

At the corner of her eye, she could see Jacob quickly pulling out a glowing bullet from his pocket and tossing it to Leah with his good arm.

Leah caught it, and then frozen at the sight of Jacob opening his mouth wide, revealing his long canines— she quickly turned around and held up the gun with steady hands.

 _An ultraviolet._

Leah took a quick moment to study the notorious bullet in her hand. It was glowing, and it was hot. So hot that she was grateful that she was wearing leather gloves. Without much thought, she loaded her Glock with it, pleasantly surprised that it fitted neatly.

"You see that?" Jacob shouted at the man. He darkly chuckled at the thinly masked concerned expression on the man's face. "Based on the look on your face, you know damn well what that is, and what it'll do to you."

Leah stared at her gun. She had an ultraviolet in her weapon, and she was standing only yards away from a vampire. Fuck. She immediately aimed the gun at the man, not because of Jacob's plan (whatever it was), but for her safety. Because that bullet was the reason why the vampire wasn't charging at her, ripping her into shreds.

"If you move, my partner's gonna shoot you," Jacob threatened, giving Leah a pointed took. He continued when Leah nodded. "And considering that you're just a newborn and aren't that fast, you won't survive that shot."

Leah's pulse quickened.

Newborn?

 _A vampire_?

"Are you threatening me?" the vampire exclaimed.

"Yes," Jacob admitted. "So fucking talk."

Leah shifted her arm so that the gun was aimed right between the vampire's eyes. "You heard him, _talk_. And drop the gun!"

To her absolute amazement, the newborn followed her orders. He carefully placed the gun on the group, holding up one hand and glaring profusely at the stricken detective. "You have some balls," he said. "You don't know who you're messing with."

"Both hands up!"

"Leah, we can't subdue him."

"Jacob, the hell you're talking about?"

"You should listen to your partner, lady—"

"Don't call me lady!"

" _Please_ don't call her lady."

"What do you want—"

Leah's eyes narrowed. "What's your name?" she demanded.

"Riley."

The name didn't ring a bell for Leah, but she was glad that the vampire, Riley, was finally seeing the light. "You know attempted murder is a felony," Leah reminded him.

The man snorted. "Your human rules don't apply to me."

"Yeah, but the ultraviolet in this gun does," Leah retorted, almost _hearing_ Jacob's smug smirk from afar. "This isn't the time for any snarky comments. Why are you after us?"

"You're making a big mistake, _lady_."

"Jacob, I'm gonna shoot him—"

"No, not yet," Jacob said, finally inching closer to the others, fighting through the pain. "Volturi, Cullen's, Denali's or Victoria— who do you work for?"

" _Victoria_." Riley's eyes zeroed in on Leah's gun, "We work for Victoria," he gritted out. "We are guards. We patrol our property."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Property?"

"This warehouse, these grounds. It all belongs to Victoria. And you are trespassing _it_."

"This warehouse belongs to the city," Leah corrected him. "It's public land."

Riley made a surprised noise but quickly gained back his resolve. "Doesn't change things..."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Leah said. "I can think of a few things that can send you away, including attempted murder, assault, loitering. Maybe squeeze in a gun charge..." She cocked her head, mocking the man. "You want me to continue?"

"The quicker you comply, the better off you'll be," Jacob said, and then before giving the vampire a chance to retort, "How long you been with the James Gang?" He sucked his teeth when Riley attempted to reach out for his gun. "I would not do that if I were you."

"If you were me you would understand," Riley bit back.

"Understand what?" Leah asked.

"That you, cops, need to learn how to stay out of our goddamn business."

What affairs? As of fifteen seconds ago, Leah hadn't even thought about the remnants of James gang. Sure, Mike had mentioned them, but he had made it seem that Victoria was handling her business outside of Chicago; outside of the detectives' jurisdiction.

"Are you talking about your little vampire turf war?" Jacob asked.

Riley smirked. "Who said only vampires are involved. Your kind ain't saints either."

"Never said we were," Jacob retorted. "What happened here about a month ago? Involving a young human woman?"

Leah glanced at Jacob.

"They only reason why we interact with humans is for dinner," Riley gave Leah a pointed look. "But you already knew that."

"She came out of this place _alive_ ," Leah pointed out, ignoring the hungry look on the vampire's face. "A young woman. Brown hair. About 5-1, 5-2. Her name was Jessica. She was here with two men."

"Ah, yes… She was—" Riley stopped. "I ain't a snitch."

"You won't have another opportunity to snitch if you don't answer the question," Leah reminded him. She didn't want to resort to shooting him, though. He would be a good informant. An excellent plant, if he played his cards right. He seemed inexperienced in the game, so making an offer shouldn't be too hard. Especially once Paul got a hold of him—

Paul, _of course_.

"I ain't a snitch—"

"You have until I count to three to answer him," Leah warned, tired of the man's game. Because she had a plan: Riley, the man standing in front of her, was going to spend the night in jail. Alive. And he would become an asset because the police department needed as much help as they could get. " _One_."

"I'm not—"

" _Two_."

"You—"

" _Thr_ —"

"She was having a meeting with someone about the fucking ultra-violets!"

"Who was she meeting?" Leah asked because _the hell_? The James Gang never dealt with the Olympic. They hated each other ever since St. Patrick's when James had been knocked off by a member of the Cullens. Unless things had changed… but Victoria seemed to be the vindictive type. She wouldn't look past a grudge, even if there were money to be made.

"I don't know!"

" _Riley_ …"

"I don't know! I swear to fucking god—"

A shot rang from Leah's gun.

The plan was officially a go. Leah watched as the vampire recoiled, collapsing onto the ground, holding his knee as he cried out in agony. She never expected a vampire to react such a way to a bullet, but… she supposed the theory behind the ultra-violets was correct.

As Jacob remained frozen beside her, most likely out of shock, Leah slowly approached the fallen vampire. She made sure to give Riley a wound that wouldn't kill him, a shot to the knee. It was going hurt like Hell, but no major artery had been hit.

" _Fuck_! I told you everything!"

"And that's why I didn't put one between your eyes."

" _Leah_ —"

"I know what I'm doing, Jacob," Leah said, not removing her eyes from the injured, irritable vampire.

This might have been one of her more reckless movies, but she had a plan, and she was going to stick to it. She only had one ultraviolet, and it was currently lodged in Riley's right knee, but she thought she could have complete control of this situation. She just had to make Riley believed she was calling the shots.

She glanced at her partner; the shock was wearing off. Okay. Three minutes, she gave herself. Three minutes was all she had to get out of the damn warehouse without worrying about an army of vampires chasing after her. Because if she didn't kill Riley or subdued him, he would most run back to his employer and all Hell might break loose.

So, she had a plan. It had been stupid then, and it was probably stupid now. But Riley was no longer acting confident, not with one of his knees taken out.

"Okay," Leah finally said, aiming the gun once again at Riley, this time to his head. "This is what's going to happen. You are going to stand on your good leg, and you're going to put your hands up high."

"Leah—"

" _You bitch_ —"

"And we're going to drop you off downtown where you will be booked and charged for assaulting two cops. Notice that I didn't say attempted murder," Leah said, pulling out her handcuffs with one hand, her Glock remaining steady in the other. "And if you cooperate, you will be offered a deal."

"What if I don't," Riley choked out.

Leah appreciated his defiance, even if it wouldn't do him any good.

"You die," she said, noticing her partner approaching her at the corner of her eye. Good. "After all, those human laws don't _technically_ apply to you."

"I'm not gonna be a rat!"

"I have news for you: you already are," Jacob said, still holding his arm, stood next to Leah, leering down at Riley. "It's the best offer you're gonna have. Because here's the thing: if you go back to your boss, with an ultra-violet in your knee and one partner down, they're going to assume that you ran away, and I know for a fact that Victoria ain't gonna like that."

"You don't know shit!"

"What I do know is that your boss doesn't give a shit about newborns. So, get the fuck up, and let my partner put some handcuffs on you while she reads you your rights." Jacob directed his attention to Leah. "You got this?"

"I got this," Leah assured him. "Call Paul. Tell him we're dropping a gift off for him, and get someone to fetch the other body."

* * *

Leah drove while Jacob sat in the passenger seat, trying his darnedest to stop the bleeding. Leah had offered to drop him off at the hospital, but Jacob hadn't wanted her to deal with Riley all by herself, even if the vampire was in the back seat, completely incapacitated.

It was amazing how the ultra-violet worked, behaving more like a tranquilizer than just a normal metal bullet. Even though there was only a grill separated between the perp and the cops, Leah didn't fear for her life.

As she passed the traffic lights, Leah couldn't help but think about what had just happened. She couldn't wrap her mind over any of this. Especially over Jacob's insistence not to call for backup. And her completely heeding to her partner's wishes; if Jacob were any of her former partners, she would have disregarded him entirely and call for extra support the moment he had gotten shot. And then there was her plan. _This wasn't like her_.

She generally did things by the book, but this time, she hadn't. And she still couldn't come to terms as to why. She hated this feeling of uncertainty, indecisiveness, and confusion. She was already had to deal with it when it came to Sam— who she still needed to confront about Emily, and because it had been approaching a month and a half, and she needed answers.

Paul was pleasantly surprised when the detectives pulled up. He quickly ordered his men to bring the man, reading Riley his rights once again, before assuring both Leah and Jacob that there was a team heading out to the warehouse. The captain caught sight of Jacob's wound but didn't appear too concerned. All he asked was for Leah to make sure he didn't bleed out.

She promised him she wouldn't, which was why she planned on taking him to the hospital until Jacob had other plans. "Just drop me off at my place."

 _Oh, you've got to be kidding me…_

Using his good arm, Jacob fished his phone out of his suit pocket and quickly dialed a number. Balancing the device on a shoulder, Jacob said in a gravelly voice, "Yo, Embry. My place in twenty."

Leah gave her partner a quick, alarmed glanced before making the turn onto Glenview Rd. She was about a mile away from Jacob's apartment. "You need to go to the hosp—"

" _Leah_."

Leah frowned. "Jacob, arm wounds aren't something to mess with. You can bleed to death."

"I'll be fine," Jacob insisted, sitting up further in his seat. His hand was still wrapped around his arm. He lightly groaned and pressed down harder. Blood began to seep through his fingers. "I'll be fine—by the way, good job back there."

"But where— _oh_." Leah stiffly nodded. "Thanks. I was kinda reckless, but…"

"It was good. And smart," Jacob said. "And Paul's happy. He has a vampire in his custody. Never thought I'd see the day… he may actually convince the captain to transfer you to the Unit-that-shall-not-be-named."

Leah chuckled at the Harry Potter reference. One day, she was going to ask Paul what his unit was officially-but-not-on-paper called. "Aw, but then that means you'll have to get another partner."

Jacob lowly grunted. "Right, don't want that happening. Wanna try to make it last for a few years. At least."

"At least." Leah stole a glance. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Trust me, I've been through much worse," Jacob said, giving Leah a strained smile before adding, "Just don't ever shoot me with a silver bullet. Promise?"

"So, the legend is true?" Leah asked. "About silver being the werewolves' kryptonite."

"I'm not a werewolf," Jacob corrected. "I'm a shape-shifter."

"Right…"

"But you're more or less right," Jacob continued. "Silver affects werewolves more, but we… I guess it's like an allergic reaction."

"Would a Benadryl work?"

Jacob chuckled. "It's more complicated than that."

"Ah."

"But seriously, I'm fine. But if I don't make it, you can kick Embry's ass."

Leah had so many questions, but her main priority was to get Jacob some medical help. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

Despite her personal feelings, Leah honored Jacob's wishes and dropped him off at his place. When Embry arrived minutes later, concerned but not too alarmed had threatened the poor cop with each inch of his life if Jacob didn't recover. Jacob laughed when Embry promised Leah as his voice cracked, the world.

Leah left when Embry escorted Jacob inside the apartment building. She thought about going up with them, just to make sure, but Jacob and Embry had known each other for years; Jacob should be in good hands.

Leah checked on Jacob the following morning. That hadn't been a part of the plan, especially on a Saturday, but it was her day off (finally), and she didn't have much to do until the evening. Sam had left the apartment at dawn for an early run, come back, take a shower, and rushed out; he was heading to a Blackhawks' game with a former partner.

Leah tossed her phone into her purse, quickly got dressed, and left her place. Before stopping at Jacob's, she visited his favorite diner, picked up the monstrosity that was the quadruple bacon, steak egg, and cheese on a roll and coffee— dark and sweet ( _like him_ , he had joking described himself days ago). It was a quarter to nine by the time she knocked on Jacob's front door.

"Who is it?" the woman called out from behind the door.

Leah wondered if Jacob had mentioned anything about a girlfriend or a wife—not that it mattered to her; she didn't want to be in the middle of any _assumptions_.

"Leah," she replied, and then added, "I'm looking for Jacob Black. This is Leah Uley, his partner from work."

Moments, later, the door opened, revealing a woman she had never seen before. Mid-thirties, pretty. She had specks of dried paint on both forearms and her clothes. Behind her, she could see a canvass lying against the wall. An artist, Leah interfered. "Good morning."

The woman's blank expression immediately brightened. "Leah, Leah Uley?"

"Yes."

"Well, good morning to you, too," she replied, seemingly amazed at the woman standing in front of her. She then smiled. "Wow, it's nice to meet you finally. I'm Rebecca. Jacob's sister."

"Nice to meet you, too, Rebecca," Leah said, a little taken aback that Jacob had talked about her to others; she didn't know why it bothered her— or maybe it didn't. She smiled back; so, this was Rebecca. The paint made sense; Jacob had mentioned about her presenting at an art gallery in the spring.

"Please, come inside," Rebecca insisted, opening the door and stepping aside. Her smile refused to drop as Leah walked past her. "I'm assuming you're here to check up on my fool of a brother."

Leah nodded. "I wanted to take him—"

"To go to the hospital, I know." Rebecca finished, glancing behind her. She sighed and continued, "Don't take it personally. He's super paranoid about hospitals and doctors, but he's, or was, head over heels with a medical examiner. Ain't that funny?"

"Was?"

It wasn't Leah's business. She was only here to make sure Jacob wasn't bleeding to death somewhere. But she was curious because everyone and their mother knew Jacob had his eyes on Bella.

Rebecca's only response was a reserved grin. She offered Leah a seat (which she politely declined) and thanked the detective when he handed the white paper bag with the food. She opened it and peered inside. "Oh, you got him the heart-attack on a roll special." She laughed. "You're sweet."

"Yeah, he's obsessed with it. It's the least I could do since he got shot." Leah gave a half-shrugged. "Apparently, he's not concerned with his cholesterol."

"He's lucky like that..." Rebecca remarked, placing the bag on the side. "Hey, do you want anything? Water? Orange juice? Toast?"

"No, I'm—"

"Please, I insist."

 _Persistent, just like her brother_ , Leah thought as she rubbed her hands together, glancing around the living room. It was a cute place. "Water and toast will be fine. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Rebecca said, rushing into the kitchen. "Be right back."

While Rebecca was rummaging through the kitchen, Leah took the time to roam around the living room. It wasn't large, roughly the size of her bedroom, but it was decorated with pictures and abstract paintings. Tons of them. She stopped at the picture of what she assumed was the Black family taken quite some years back, judging by the presence of Jacob's mother. She quietly chuckled at her partner's long hair, making a note to tease him about it later.

Leah's musings were interrupted by an unexpected sound—A low growl. She jerked her head in the direction of the noise, resisting an urge to pull out her gun and froze.

" _Holy shit_..." she breathed.

She closed her eyes and slowly opened them.

It—an animal. A dog. A _something_ was just standing there, quiet. So quiet that it was entirely possible that Rebecca couldn't hear its soft breathing. Or see it since it stood in a blind-spot from the kitchen. Leah tensed up when she realized that the animal's attention was entirely on her. It minutely shifted at the sound of the water turning in the kitchen sink, but after a few seconds, its focus returned to Leah.

 _Okay_.

It couldn't have been a dog. It was too big; _it was huge_. Had to be about ten feet long. Something that size shouldn't be standing in the middle of a living room, inside a small apartment. And it was beautiful, with its reddish-brown fur and dark eyes—eyes that she could have sworn she had seen before. She titled her side to the side; the animal followed suit, narrowing its eyes.

Holy... it had his eyes. _Jacob's eyes_.

Leah blinked several times. Maybe she was losing it. Perhaps her lack of sleep was finally catching up to her. But... Goodness, it had to be him. _The wolf_. That was what he must have been talking about.

Against her better judgment, she carefully approached him. Her eyes didn't leave his as she reached a hand out to him. When her hand finally rested on the top of the wolf's head, she released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. It— _Jacob_ , she assumed she could call it now, looked right up at her. Its— _his_ eyes were friendly yet guarded.

Feeling a bit confident, Leah gently moved her hand across Jacob's head and down its side. Her heart sped up as she felt him leaning against her touch, quietly whining when Leah jerked her hand back.

She did it again. This time, while maintaining a level heart rate, she stood up and walked around the wolf, occasionally petting it, thinking about how surreal this was (and if she was really hallucinating). When she did a 360, she stopped and ran her fingers along Jacob's cheeks and back to his neck, in the same manner, her childhood dog, Selena—a birthday gift from her father weeks before his untimely death, had liked all those years ago.

She jumped a bit when she heard and felt the rumbling emitting from the wolf and then smiled. He was enjoying it. "My God," she breathed, continuing her ministration. "Oh, my _fucking_..."

"Sorry, the toaster's been acting up, and—"

Leah looked behind her and with her hands still buried in the fur, locked eyes with Rebecca. To say Jacob's sister was stunned by the sight was an understatement. She cleared her throat. "Rebecca—"

"Ja—" Rebecca stopped and quickly placed the glass of water on top of the faux-fireplace before she could drop it. She was ready to charge at the wolf, but then stopped as her gaze focused on Leah's hands and her brother's relaxed state. "It can't— _you recognize him_?"

"He has Jacob's eyes," Leah said, still amazed. When she locked eyes with Jacob's again, she slowly ran her fingers along the side of his face once again, a smile peeking from the corner of her mouth. It was amazing that an animal, so large, seemingly so ferocious was just so calm. _It's mesmerizing_ , she concluded.

"But—" Rebecca stopped and gulped. "You know about... this?"

"So, it's true after all..."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes, and asked, taking a step forward, " _Who told you_?"

Leah blinked. The way Rebecca was asking those questions was interesting, full of surprise, disbelief, and worry. Suspicion. "He did," she admitted, noticing how Jacob's guarded gaze shifted to his sister.

"He told you," Rebecca breathed, looking between her brother and Leah. Bringing a hand to her mouth, she took a couple of steps back. "He told you..."

He had.

Leah took a deep breath and stilled her hands. She felt Jacob's tense muscles. _He had_. Not long after meeting her face-to-face, he had. And he shouldn't have, at least, according to the tone in Rebecca's voice. She understood why it had to be a secret; many people weren't like her. They might not take the news of the supernatural's existence too well, but why her? Why would he tell her?

"It must've slipped."

"It never slips," Rebecca slowly said. "It never slips...My goodness, he _does_ trust you."

Leah glanced up as she returned to rubbing the sides of Jacob's neck. She couldn't help herself, not even Jacob released a satisfied grumble—she was getting flashbacks of her childhood, of the times she played with her precious dog and how it had loved to be petted. "I'm his partner."

"That doesn't mean much."

Leah stopped his ministrations, earning a slight growl from him. Jacob. _Her partner_. A man whose six-foot-something tall being had been bleeding in the car only several hours ago. Goodness, she still couldn't wrap her head around this.

* * *

"So, that happened..."

Leah peered at Jacob through her car window. It had been ten minutes since she had left Jacob's residence. She had every intention to go (not because of anything that had happened upstairs. Jacob, the wolf, had been calm and Rebecca had been too, once she had gotten over her shock), but then she had received a text from Jacob, begging her not to leave yet—and now here he was, standing at the curb just wearing sweats and a T-shirt despite it being fifteen degrees outside.

Leah was tempted to ask if he just wanted to get inside and come along for a drive. He was tense, on guard. Not that Leah could blame him. She was sure revealing himself to her wasn't a part of the agenda.

"I didn't know you liked neck rubs so much," Leah remarked with a teasing smile.

Jake playfully rolled his eyes, finally loosening up a bit. "So, I like neck rubs. Sue me."

"Your sister is nice… seemed surprised about everything."

Jacob stood up straight and began to rub the back of his neck. "I think she was expecting a freak-out, especially when you realized it was me."

 _Why did you tell me? It was supposed to be a secret. You weren't supposed to let it slip; you never did…_

"I never thought I'd see you like that."

"Well, you did," Jacob said. The tension returned. "And?"

And? Her partner had transformed into a wolf. An actual wolf. Not a werewolf— there was no human quality in sight (save for the eyes). But a _wolf_. That she had petted and stared into its eyes— it was an experience like none other.

"Your fur was soft," Leah quietly replied. She could still feel it along her fingers.

Jacob grinned.

"Do you turn every time you get injured?"

"It depends. It helps." Jacob shrugged. "I don't know how, but it does."

"So, you're okay?"

"Never felt better."

"I'll see you on Monday, then?"

Jake tapped his hand against the hood of the car a couple of times and took a step back as Leah turned the key in the ignition. "I'll see you on Monday, and... thanks."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Checking up on me and getting me breakfast."

"I'm your partner," Leah said.

"And?"

 _And_? That was what partners did. They looked after each other, especially when violence was involved. She couldn't understand why Jacob seemed so grateful; as if she had gone beyond to make sure he was okay. She was positive that she wasn't the first partner to do such a thing.

"It wasn't a hassle," Leah said, sincere. "It wasn't a hassle, at all."


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

* * *

Jacob had been right.

Aisha had been right.

Her sub-conscious had been right.

Leah couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't simply brush things aside, wishing, hoping, _praying_ that it would all sort itself in the end. Maybe in another life, it could. Maybe in another life where she didn't have to worry about solving homicides and the supernatural, and _Sam_ —

And it was because this revelation, or perhaps complete acceptance, more than a month and a half later, she finally accepted her cousin's invitation to "talk."

There was only one week until the family wedding; Leah didn't have any other choice.

Emily might not have been wise enough to leave her cousin's husband alone, but she did figure that it was wise to meet Leah in public on a Saturday afternoon. In a favorite restaurant in Lincoln Square, surrounded by numerous patrons with their iPhones and Androids, ready to snap a photo or record a video at the drop of the dime. Patrons who had no issue with posting their videos on social media if and when Leah decided to pull a gun on Emily.

Leah should have been offended that Emily would think she would do such a thing... but then again, her cousin might have a point. Leah could be temperamental though she believed that she had calmed down somewhat. All because of her job. She wasn't Paul; she couldn't get away with aggressively interrogating someone no matter how much they deserved it.

"How are you?"

Leah snorted. "Like you give a damn."

This conversation was already getting off to a good start.

Emily visibly recoiled, gulped and returned her focus to the menu. She was nervous; Leah, when glancing up from her menu, could tell by the trembling hands.

Leah took pleasure in seeing Emily like this. She wanted her to tremble. To experience fear. To know what it felt like to get her heart stomped by those who claimed to love her.

"I'm glad we were finally able to meet up," Emily said, trying to get past her cousin's latest statement. She even forced a smile. "It's been a while..."

Leah narrowed her eyes.

 _Small talk_. That was how Emily was going to approach this. With some bullshit small talk. Leah was not in the mood for some _bullshit small talk_ — she was running on three hours of sleep thanks to another double shift from last night. Her husband was fuck-knows-where. She had recently gained three pounds, most likely from her nightly date with cheap wine, ice cream, and onion rings. There was still a sadistic murderer on the loose, and she got to deal with all of this detective bullshit again in less than two days.

She didn't have the time.

"You could've fucked any man in the world, but you chose to _fuck_ mine," Leah started with a bite. Her words startled Emily, causing the poor woman to almost tumble off of her seat. "Would you believe that? The husband of your flesh and blood..."

Once Emily composed herself, she checked her surroundings for an audience— there wasn't any—and cleared her throat. "Leah, it wasn't a one-sided thing—"

"You could have said no," Leah carried on. "It's not a hard thing to say. It only has one syllable. _No_."

"I—"

"Good afternoon, ladies. Welcome. My name is Walter, and I'll be your server today. Would like to like to start with some drinks?"

With Leah's shift in attention from Emily to Walter, so did her expression—from irritation to resigned pleasantness. She checked the beverage section of the menu. "Hm, coke with no ice would be fine."

"Sounds good, and are you ready to order?"

"Fish sandwich with extra tartar and a side of fries," Leah replied, handing the waiter the menu. "Thank you—and some tea."

"You're welcome, and for you, ma'am?"

Emily was reluctantly to reply for her focus—confused, apologetic, and increasing frustrated— was solely on Leah. Perhaps from the fact that she had already lost complete control of the "talk" with Leah. Several seconds passed when Emily remembered that she was supposed to be speaking to the patient man behind her. She handed him the menu, already deciding what she wanted. "A Greek salad and a diet Sprite," she said.

"Of course."

"If you brought me here to issue some apologies," Leah said once Walter walked away, "Then I'm going to leave because you're wasting our time—"

"I _am_ sorry," Emily interjected, loud enough for some patrons to turn their heads. "From the bottom of my heart."

Leah wondered if Sam felt the same. He had apologized, but it was in passing. He hadn't been specific about why he was apologetic. He had just said, "Sorry."

Sorry.

 _Fucking sorry_.

"I would ask you why you did it, but I don't think it really matters at this point," Leah bit out, leaning her back against the seat, crossing her arms as she stared at her cousin who refused to make eye contact. "So, how long has _this_ been going on?"

"Leah, it just happened—"

Leah cut off her. "Emily, I deal with preps on a daily basis. Don't you think I know when someone's lying to my face?"

"I'm not lying," Emily insisted. "It happened, and then it never stopped..."

"How long, Emily?"

Emily closed her eyes. "Three years," she mumbled.

"Three years."

"It was a mistake—"

"A one-night stand while being drunk out of your mind is a mistake. A three-year-long affair?" Leah shook her head, leaning forward to drink some tea and then the coke. " _That's_ not a mistake."

"Leah—"

"Do you want to be with him?"

Emily stared at Leah, silent as her cousin drank hers from the other side of the table, not once removing her eyes from her. Angry eyes. Betrayed eyes. Bewildered eyes. "Leah, this isn't the question—"

"Answer me."

Emily finally looked up. "He's married to you."

Leah read between the lines. "Do you love him?" she asked again, maintaining a level tone while pouring herself another cup. After taking a sip of the flavored hot liquid, she looked up at her cousin, patiently, but frustratingly so, waiting for an answer.

Emily glanced to her side and softly sighed—Leah took another sip; her cousin had doubts. The detective could tell in an instant.

"Well?" Leah pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"Is that important?"

In the grand scheme of things, not really. But deep inside, Leah might be able to find some reconciliation if love was genuinely involved. She wouldn't be happy about it; pissed-off more than anything, but at least if love was involved... She supposed people couldn't help whom they fell in love with.

"It's a simple yes or no question."

"He's a great guy—"

"That's not an answer," Leah snapped, and then tried again, "Do you love him or not?"

"I _like_ him."

Leah blinked, suddenly loss for words. She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. Berate Emily or just pity her. Instead, she folded her hands on the table, right before her tea. "You did all of this for a man you don't even love..."

Emily didn't reply.

Leah's gaze dropped to the table, focused the handkerchief, as the detective shook her head, quietly chuckling humorlessly. "I can't believe this."

"You think I'm happy about this situation?"

"I honestly can care less how you feel," Leah admitted; she couldn't believe she was at this moment. Emily used to be a sister to her. Sam used to be the love of Leah's life. Her husband. The father of her future children. The man she planned on growing old with.

"Leah, the reason why I brought you here…" Emily trailed off, dropping her gaze. She began to tremble but not enough for Leah to honestly give a damn. "Is because I have something to tell you."

"You couldn't tell this over the phone or text?"

"Like you'd pick up my calls," Emma pointed out, and then, "Leah, I'm pregnant."

" _Excuse me_?"

"I am pregnant," Emily carefully spelled out, playing with her salad. "A couple of months in. Found out last week." She gulped. "It's… Sam's."

Leah dropped her fries and stared at Emily—

She had always dreamed of having kids: two boys and two girls. She even had the names. But Sam, her darling husband, didn't want any. At least, not anytime soon. It was because of their jobs, he would claim. Raising children in this climate wouldn't be wise, and he didn't think he'd be a great dad.

All excuses.

Leah had gone along with the plan because deep inside, she believed one day her husband would change his mind. Sue was clamoring for a grandchild. Seth had mentioned far too many times about spoiling his nieces and nephews ( _Yeah, with what job?_ Leah had teased him a couple of years back, laughing when her brother stuck a tongue out to her).

Maybe not four kids. Four kids could be a lot. How about two? Even one? _Something_.

Leah had to laugh at the change of events. She couldn't make this shit up— Sam had gone through great lengths to ensure that his wife didn't bring a child into the world, but apparently, didn't do a damn thing for _Emily_.

"Leah..." Emily begged. "Say something."

"What is there to say?" Leah replied.

What _was_ there for her to say without causing a scene? Even if the two women were alone, Leah didn't think she had something to say at this moment.

"You're carrying my husband's child." Leah rolled her eyes as she reached out for her fries. "Do you want a congratulation? Do you want me to cause a scene and get put on admin leave?"

Emma didn't respond.

Leah picked up more fries, shoved them into her mouth, and flagged down the waiter. She wanted something more... something _fried_. When the waiter arrived, Leah swallowed down the fried potato strips. "Double fried fish sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes and extra Tartar sauce... and another order of fries." She requested before looking her cousin's way expectantly. "You want anything?"

Emily's gaze didn't rise from the table. "No," was her meek reply.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I mean, you _are_ eating for two."

Emily's eyes darted up. "No, I'm _fine_."

Leah shrugged at the waiter. "I guess she's fine." She forced a smile. "And another coke with no ice."

The waiter nodded. "Okay, coming on up," and went on his way.

Emily took a series of deep breaths. "Was that necessary?" she almost snapped.

Leah leaned back in her booth, crossing her arms and raising an inquisitive eyebrow. _Ah_ , _yes_. That was the Emily she knew. She had been wondering whether the real Emily would come from hiding; Leah couldn't get used to the quiet, timid, apologetic Emily. "I was only considerate to your… state of being."

Emily gave her cousin a doubtful look. "Really?"

"Really," Leah replied, deadpanned. "Because that's what family do for family: be considerate."

"I messed up. I know I did, but—" Emily dropped her head, whispering. "All I ask for is your forgiveness."

 _Ask_? Leah snorted. She should be _begging_. On her hands and knees, in front of every single patron and employee at this damned restaurant.

Sighing, Leah covered her cousin's hand her own. A surprisingly soothing gesture until her fingers flexed around Emily's hand, squeezing it hard. Emily's expression turned from passive forgiveness to fear.

"I'll probably forgive you," Leah said as her gaze shifted aimlessly around the table before resting on Emily who appeared to stop breathing. "Give it some time." She loosened her hold. "Give it some time... but unless it has anything to do with your child or the rest of your family, I don't want to hear from or see you ever again."

"Leah—"

"So, I highly suggest you start _loving_ my husband now," Leah continued before finally receiving her second lunch. She thanked the waiter and took a bite out of her sandwich. She closed her eyes and moaned at the taste; this was just what she needed. Diet, be damned. She swallowed another bite and placed the meal aside. "So that you can tell yourself that all of this was _worth_ it."

* * *

"Are you... alright?"

Was she?

Leah couldn't explain last night. What had she experienced... blackout rage? It must have been it because even now, she couldn't recall how she had gotten home from that restaurant or what she had said to her husband upon seeing him on that couch, watching TV without any care in the world.

How could he, the one at fault, just sit around relaxing while she had been experiencing so much turmoil?

* * *

" _Why can't you leave her alone? You said that you still love me, right? Then end everything. Don't see her again. Why is this so difficult?"_

 _"Leah, I would if I could."_

 _"And why can't you?" Leah challenged, crossing her arms. "Is it because she's pregnant?"_

 _Sam inched closer to his wife; his face showed a level of shock Leah had never seen before. "How did you—"_

 _"She told me."_

* * *

Leah stared at the dashboard, frozen. It was six in the morning, the day after discovering the truth. Four hours after she had made a threat to a cop's life and more or less ex-communicated a woman who was supposed to be her sister. And now, for the next ten plus around, she had to roam around the city of Chicago, earning her paycheck, interviewing people, snooping around and acting like her life wasn't crumbling before her very eyes.

"Leah, come on. Talk to me."

This was the thing about Jacob that she loved and couldn't stand. He didn't let things go. Virtually incapable of letting things go. And he was a damn wolf; he could sense her emotional turmoil, and he wasn't going to relax until she calmed down. The silent treatment was futile.

"She's having his baby," she confessed quietly.

"Who?"

* * *

" _Seven years, Sam! Seven goddamn years down the drain because you wanted to fuck my cousin, and now, she's pregnant! Pregnant, Sam! Pregnant!"_

 _"Leah, I don't even know if it's mine—"_

 _"You should've never been in consideration!" Leah retorted, pacing around the living room, five seconds away from pulling her hair out and tossing every object in sight at her husband. "How could you do this me?" she cried._

* * *

"Emily. My cousin," Leah slowly replied, blinking rapidly, batting away the tears. She already had her breakdown; she didn't need any more waterworks. "She's having Sam's baby, and I pulled a gun on him."

* * *

 _"Crazy?" Leah let out an incredulous laugh with her finger still on the trigger. "You think I'm crazy? Why? Because I expect my husband not to cheat on me?"_

 _Sam took another step, holding out his arms as if it could shield him from the impending bullet. He didn't appear to fear for his life, much to Leah's chagrin, but he was worried. Frustration. Stunned. "Leah, put that damn gun down…"_

 _"Get the hell out of my house. Go to Emily. Raise a family." Leah finally retreated, putting the gun back on the table. "I don't even care anymore."_

 _"Leah—"_

 _"Just—just fucking leave!"_

* * *

Jacob released a loud sighed. "Fuck."

Leah nodded. _Fuck_ , indeed. This wasn't what she wanted to admit, but it slipped. Things tended to slip out of her mouth when she was around Jacob, especially in this damned department-issued, unmarked car.

From the corner of her slightly watery eyes, she watched Jacob, waiting for the judgment and his inevitable disappointment. Waiting for the look in Jacob's eyes, indicating that it would be best for them to go their separate, professional, ways. It wouldn't have been the first time this happened.

But to her relief, she found none of them. Just pity and sympathy. Not exactly what she needed, but it was far better than the alternative.

"When—"

"Last night. He was there, and I demanded that we talked," Leah continued, and then let out a humorless chuckle. "I'm surprised I haven't gotten arrested yet; people got tossed in the slammer for less... I wasn't going to shoot him. I wanted to. _God, I wanted to_. But I knew deep inside that I wasn't going to pull the trigger. It wasn't worth getting convicted of murder-two. I'd only be another woman scorned. Locked away in prison. _Over a man_."

Jacob let out a deep breath. He opened his mouth a few times, but then immediately closed. Eventually, he spoke, "So, what happens now?"

"I should apologize," Leah quietly said. "My actions were uncalled for. What if he had done the same thing to me?" She dropped her gaze and shook her head. At herself. At the fact that she wasn't in handcuffs. "No, he wouldn't have done that. He's not me." She sighed. "It's just that... how am I supposed to react to that? She's fucking pregnant!"

"Did you tell your mom?"

Leah blinked. "What?"

"Your mom, did you tell her about Emily?" Jacob asked again. When Leah didn't answer, he pressed on, "You gotta tell her. You gotta tell her before the wedding. Look, I haven't been in this kind of situation before, but I know what it's like to keep everything bottled up inside... you think it's the more responsible and mature thing. Maybe, everything will go away, but then something will remind you of it. And then you won't stop. You won't care where you are, who's around you. You'll release all of that anger, that frustration..." He trailed off to look at his partner straight in the eye. "You gotta tell your mom. Get that weight off your shoulders so you can move on."

Leah diverted her gaze. Fuck, he was right but, "I don't just want to make things—"

"Worse?" Jacob finished and shook his head. "Leah, you haven't done a damn thing wrong. Okay, yes, the gun thing— but you weren't the one messing around; you weren't the one who impregnated your cousin, knowing damn well how your spouse was going to react. None of this is your fault."

Leah bit her lip, slowly shaking her head. "Maybe this was my fault," she offered, refusing to meet Jacob's incredulous stare. "I drove him away, right into Emily's arms…"

"And how did you do _that_?"

"By being a detective," Leah replied under her breath. Not that doing so would prevent Jacob from hearing her. "We don't see each other often, and—"

"Oh, come on, Leah," Jacob rolled his eyes. Not at her, but everything. "You were both at the academy when you first met. He knew what you wanted to do. What the hell did he expect from you? To quit?"

 _Yeah_ , Leah thought. _Yeah, that was it_. Sam had a traditional view on marriage; something Leah had thought to be romantic at first. It would have been nice to be taken care of... but they had just been rank-in-file cops. One salary couldn't do much for them; they needed two. And it wasn't entirely about the money. She had worked her ass off at the academy, during her rookie year. She wanted a career at the Chicago Police Department. She wanted to make a difference. Somehow. Someway.

Leah thought Sam had been perfectly okay with that. Maybe he had, but then she began to rise in the ranks, becoming a detective just like Sam. It was like a fucking competition with him.

She wasn't trying to one-up him. She was simply doing her job—

"Leah?"

Leah snapped out of her thoughts and shifted her gaze outside. It snowed a bit; four inches. Nothing to fret over, but it looked beautiful. Almost picture-like thanks to the plows coming along as of yet. "The rational part of me...it tells me to listen to you and Aisha. Leave him. Find the quickest way to get a divorce. Fuck marriage counseling, and walk away...but I love him, you know? I never thought he'd do this to me. He said he loved me too..."

She hadn't anticipated the tears. It had been so long since she had a nice cry, let alone in front of someone else. She just wasn't much of a crier, but she couldn't think of anything else to do.

She felt Jacob pulling her into a hug. She didn't fight it, only cried harder into his arms.

The last time she had cried like this was when her father died. Over two decades ago. Not even after the first she got shot, did Leah cry like this. Or maybe that was why she as doing— twenty years was a long time. Twenty years of bottled up feelings and emotions. Twenty years of lying to herself, believing that everything would work itself out. This was all Sam's; all of these emotions. He had been the first man to bring the love of it and her, and _look_ what it did to her.

She was crying, being held tightly by her partner while she was supposed to be working. Supposed solving the Chicago Dahlia case. Supposed to be chasing down criminals and butting heads. Not like this.

"I'm s-so sorry," Leah choked out, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her coat.

She felt Jacob's disbelieving eyes on her. "The hell you're apologizing to me for?" he asked, finally letting her sit up in her seat. He reached into the visor above him, pulled out a couple of pieces of tissue, and handed them to Leah.

Leah quietly thanked him and wiped her face. Moments later, she was grimacing, staring at the pieces of crumbled tissue into her hands through still teary eyes. The tissues were dirtied with smudges of her mascara and eyeliner. "I'm a fucking mess," she bit out.

"You're many things, Leah, but a mess ain't one of them," Jacob said, checking on her from the corner of his eye. Leah was studying her features, using the visor mirror. "How much time you need?"

"Give me ten minutes," Leah quietly replied. "I rather not walk into precinct looking like a wreck."

"Take all the time you need."

* * *

Leah needed that cry.

She didn't know much she needed it until an hour later as she stood in front of the Office of the Medical Examiner, leaning against the car in the parking lot with so much weight lifted from her shoulders, sharing a much-needed cigarette with her partner. Smoking on the coroner's grounds was not permitted, but the guard patrolling the lot hadn't said a word to them, and he had greeted them every time he passed them; so far, four times.

Leah was never much of a smoker; she had far too many loved ones suffer from ailments because of tobacco, but she was _tired_ , she was stressed out, and she was in the middle of a figurative-divorce— she was allowed to torture her lungs for a few minutes. Jacob wasn't really one either; he was an occasional cigar guy, although he didn't want to admit it. But Leah had offered five minutes back, and Jacob couldn't resist.

She had needed that, the cigarette and the cry, and now she could focus on the job the taxpayers were paying her to do.

"How bad is it?" Leah asked before taking in a drag. She reached behind her to take a sip of her coffee before handing the half-used cigarette to Jacob.

Jacob thanked Leah, took one hit, and handed it back. He dug his hands into his coat and sighed. "Oh, _it's bad_."

At approximately five thirty in the morning, Jacob had received a frantic call from Bella about missing corpses. _Missing corpses_. Jacob, being half-asleep, had thought he had either misheard the message, or it had all been a joke, so he had brushed it aside. Until six in the morning, when he received a call from Eric who never called him until he was grave danger.

So, it hadn't been a joke after all. Far from it because as of four-forty- five in the morning, the bodies of Sasha and Vasili Denali had been virtually snatched from their freezer drawers, supposedly secured at the office of the medical examiner.

"Does Sam know about this?" Leah asked.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Does he?"

Leah gave her partner a look before dropping the used cigarette onto the ground and crushing the butt under her leather boot. "We're not on the best of terms, remember?"

"Right. Sorry."

"No problem," Leah said, and then, "What I don't understand is how the assailants got pass security?"

Leah pushed aside her personal shit-show and nearly swallowed down half of her coffee. Jacob had a point; an extremely good point. "Well, either they weren't paying attention, or they were in on it."

"You're speaking of a conspiracy?" Jacob scoffed. "Damn, you've been in the force for far too long."

"This place certainly changes your perception of life. That's for damn sure." Leah snorted, and, "So, we're gonna question the guards? Check out the video?"

"This isn't our case," Jacob said when the realization finally hit him. "This isn't ours…"

Leah raised an eyebrow. Yes, she knew that. That was partly the reason why Leah was confused about being here for the first time. Sam should be here—she just thought Jacob was going what Jacob did best: solve all of Bella's problems. Not that Leah considered Bella's problems to be trivial; she would be freaking out too… but this wasn't Jacob's jurisdiction.

"Then let my husband's people handle it."

"Ten minutes," Jacob promised. "Ten minutes and we're outta there."

"I'm timing you," Leah warned.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Jacob said. "I just want to console Bella before she or her colleagues do something stupid."

"Like reach out to the press..."

"Like reach out to the press."

* * *

They stayed for eleven minutes.

It was a minute over, but Leah didn't knock him for it. She had actually been impressed with Jacob's "punctuality." Usually, he would be here for another hour.

So, it had been true. Someone had stolen the bodies of Sasha and Vasili Denali before they could be examined thoroughly. Interestingly enough, the body of Demetri of the Volturi was still inside the freeze so, it couldn't have been the worth of the Volturi—

It made Leah's head throb just thinking about it.

Leah had wanted to ask about any updates concerning Edward Masen and Jessica Stanley, but even she had known that this hadn't been the right time. Eric had been crying. Bella had been seeking refuge with a triple shock espresso. And Banner, the Chief Medical Examiner, had been calling in every favor under the sun.

The detective made sure to text her husband as she exited the office with Jacob following close by. She told him to visit the coroner's office ASAP. He said he would be there in fifteen.

She couldn't believe Sam responded.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

* * *

The past 48 hours had been overwhelmingly stressful, from Leah confronting her husband (and cousin) to _comforting_ her husband, who was freaking out upon the discovery that two bodies, the subjects of his most important case, had been stolen.

Sam still didn't have a lead.

No suspects.

No bodies.

No nothing.

Thank goodness, the media hadn't reported about it yet, Leah told him over the phone.

That would be the last time she had spoken to her husband, and it might not have been entirely Sam's fault. Yes, he had been in the wrong, but so had she. Leah could have easily been arrested for her stunt from a couple of nights ago.

Sam had listened to her irate command. _It was for the best_ , Leah decided as she finished one of her many reports. She had enough stress from work; maybe absence would do wonders to her blood pressure and make the heart fonder or some shit like that...

Leah didn't want to know whose place her husband was staying at.

"You need to talk to him," Aisha would stress a couple of nights later, after giving Leah an update on the missing bodies' and Demetri's cases—there hadn't been much. "You both can't keep doing this silent-treatment shit forever."

Leah poured herself her third glass of wine of the night. Thankfully, the liquor wasn't strong enough to cause a massive hangover. She took a sip before replying, forlorn, "I know."

"And you need to speak to Emily again."

" _I know_."

* * *

Leah grimaced at the memory as she typed up her next report. She had been annoyed with Aisha last night because Aisha, as usual, had been one thousand percent right. It was only days until the wedding, and nothing much had changed. None of her family knew— as far as Sue was concerned, Sam's mistress was some chick from work. Not her niece.

 _This has to stop_ , Leah concluded.

She looked beyond her computer monitor to check up her yawning partner, quickly typing away; he was itching to get out of this place as soon as possible; the concentrated, tired expression on his face told Leah that.

The clock read 10:39 pm.

Leah was soon distracted from her work thanks to the mess on her desk. The clutter usually did not bother her; she had long accepted that she craved for organized chaos. But at this moment, with her desk, crowded with files and loose pages. Case-related photographs, an old computer... she couldn't get anything meaningful done.

Beyond the piles of paper, stood a row of framed photos of her loved ones: her mother, her father, Seth... and Emily. Her focus zeroed in on her cousin, smiling right next to her. Arms wrapped around her, eyes bright with the loveliness that was the Washington wilderness behind them. They both seemed so happy.

In that photo, Leah must have been ten; Emily, ten as well. They were only a few months apart, practically like twins, their family would say. For the longest, Leah agreed with them. She didn't have a sister, neither did Emily, but they did have each other. Sisters, they would proudly call each other.

They both had promised to look after each other. To never fall apart or have anything or anyone come between them—Leah thought that the promise would never be broken. Her bond with her cousin had been that strong. Or she thought.

Leah considered tossing out the photo with the frame and all. Seriously considered, but just as she reached out her head, she pulled it right back.

She had work to do. Reports to fill out.

Leah didn't have time for this shit.

* * *

Leah called Sue minutes after Jacob had left for the night.

It was very late. Her mother was usually fast asleep at this time, but she still picked up the call.

And Leah told her everything.

That hadn't been the plan (a common occurrence in Leah's life); she didn't even know what had possessed her to make that call. Whatever she had to say could've waited until the next morning, but her mother had picked up, and if Leah had hung up or remained silent, Sue was sure to call 911.

"Come home," Sue quietly said over the phone. "To _my_ house, Leah, not yours. _Please_."

The offer was tempting, but Leah was hesitant. She still had work to do. "I'll visit in the evening, for dinner. If you like."

"I'd _like_ you to come home now."

"But I have to do important—"

"It wasn't important enough not to call me in the middle of the night," Sue sleepily retorted. Leah could hear her sitting up in the bed and turning on the bedside lamp. "What didn't you tell me this before?"

"I—" Leah stopped. Why hadn't she? She couldn't think of a good reason. Yes, she wanted peace. Yes, she didn't want to deal with the drama, but her mother and everyone else would have found out anyway...

Sue didn't allow her daughter to finish. "You know, you don't have to do everything on your own."

Leah rolled her eyes. _This again_. The same speech her mother had given her since she was nine. But it came out of a place of love and concern, Leah knew that, accepted that, and in seconds, her frustration began to dissipate. "I know," she quietly said. "I know."

"Then come home."

Leah glanced at her desk clock, sighing as she pushed aside her files. "I'll be there soon."

* * *

Sue was merciful to Leah when she arrived; she did not mention one word about her daughter's confession. Seth, thankfully, had always slept like a log so he wouldn't wake up with all of the commotion.

Leah dropped off her off in the foyer and headed straight to her old room— Sue's orders. She was well aware of her daughter's erratic sleep patterns.

It was the best sleep Leah had in months.

After waking up at fifteen to five, washing up and getting dressed, Leah descended the stairs; it was going an early day for her and Jacob— and paused when she entered the kitchen. There was her mother, sitting at the small kitchen table with yesterday's paper in her hand and a cup of coffee next to her. She double-checked the clock hanging above one of the walls. 5:30 am.

Sue was never up at this time.

"When did you get up?"

"At midnight."

Leah frowned. "You didn't sleep?"

"I'm a mother," Sue said, reaching out for the coffee. She took a couple of sips before carefully placing the mug down. She adjusted her robe and looked up at her daughter. "I couldn't. Not with you..."

Leah felt guilty. "I'm so sorry. The timing was bad, and—"

Sue raised a hand, effectively cutting off her daughter. "You can call me anytime, darling," she insisted in a sweet voice that had traces of enough finality to prevent Leah from arguing. She then rose from the seat and approached Leah, pulling her into a warm hug and placing a soft kiss on the detective's forehead. "Have a wonderful day at work, dear. And you _will_ come back here for dinner and talk about this situation. Do you understand, young lady?"

"Yes, mom."

* * *

"You looked well-rested."

Leah smiled as she entered the car. She handed Jacob his cup of coffee, courtesy of Sue, before taking a sip of your own. "Thank you, and you didn't have to pick me up."

"It's no big deal," Jacob insisted before gulped down some of the steaming hot drink. He emitted a low moan of appreciation before placing the Styrofoam cup in the cup-holder. "Thanks for this. The coffee I had earlier tasted like shit."

"My mom insisted," Leah said as the car drove away from Sue's home. "Since you did come all this way." She lightly snorted, and then joked, wiggling her eyebrows. "Don't tell me that's the only reason why you offered me a ride."

"Ha! Of course, not. You're _really_ in a good mood," Jacob remarked, glancing at his partner. "You need to stay over at your mom's more often."

"Oh, fuck you," Leah replied good-naturedly, and then seconds later. "I told her."

"I figured you did," Jacob said. "Got that weight off your shoulders?"

"I didn't know the weight was there..."

"How did she react?"

"She forced me to stay over."

"Ah."

"And I have to have dinner with her and Seth and after that, have an actual discussion," Leah said, feeling better about the situation. "So, we have to be done at a decent time. Or she'll have your balls."

Jacob chuckled. "Don't want that."

Leah lowly chuckled herself, leaning against the passenger. Just as the detectives crossed the Evanston-Chicago line, she spoke up again, "Have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Two, actually," Leah said. "Do you have updates on the missing bodies?"

Jacob shook his head. "None. Some folks are going to interview the guards again, but yeah... none."

"Theory?"

"I don't think the killers did it. If they wanted to dispose of the bodies, they could've done it before we found the Denali's dead. So, and this is just a theory—I think Tanya was involved."

"Tanya Denali?" Leah said, sitting up. "Isn't she related to them? What not claim them after the autopsy?"

"Probably for the same reason why Bella's late-night visitor didn't want Jessica's autopsy to be done," Jacob mumbled, and then, "Okay, second question?"

"Your wolf..."

Jacob cleared his throat. "What about it?"

"You were born that way?"

"Yeah, it kinda runs in the family."

Leah nodded. "Huh."

"What's the _huh_ for?"

"I've always assumed that you, werewolves—"

"Shapeshifters."

" _Shapeshifters_ ," Leah corrected, wondering how much of a difference there truly was between the two. "Are made, not born."

"It can be both."

"Like vampires?"

"Nah, vampires are only made. Well, at least... sort of." Jacob sighed and then added, "It's complicated."

"Right." Leah rubbed her hands together. "How does one turn? A bite to the neck?"

"Something like that."

"Can any ol' shapeshifter turn someone, like a vampire?"

"No," Jacob quickly replied as he took the exit onto Lake Shore Drive. "Only alphas."

 _Alphas_. Leah had an idea of what they were, what role they played. They were, she supposed, the captains. The ones in charge, the protector, and such. Of what? They were wolves, so a pack? Like a team of other werewolves— no, shapeshifters.

"And what are you?"

Jacob locked eyes with Leah's. "An alpha."

* * *

Hey, what's up with our friend, Riley?— _Leah, 7:30 am_

Ain't as tough as he thinks. One threat of life in the slammer and he transformed into an opera singer— _Paul, 7:31 am_

So, he's good?— _Leah, 7:33 am_

Oh, he's good. Wasn't even worth getting Jenks involved— _Paul, 7:33 am_

Thanks for everything –- _Leah, 7:40 am_

No, thank YOU— _Paul, 7:44 am_

Leah put her phone away. "Paul got Riley to talk."

Jacob snorted as he pulled into the precinct's parking lot. "Paul always gets people to talk."

* * *

Earlier that morning, Bella had requested the detectives' presence as soon as they free. She hadn't mentioned the purpose or expressed any urgency. _I need to clear up some things_ , she had texted to Jacob. _No rush_.

But Jacob had insisted on heading over to the Office of the Medical Examiner anyway, following a meeting with the captain. Bella's definition of "non-urgent" wasn't always on par with everyone else's.

Leah agreed to tag along without much protest because frankly, the workday was gearing up to be a tremendously slow one; she needed a distraction from her recent shit-storm, even if it had to involve Bella.

Bella wasn't alone this time. Eric was roaming about the lab, gushing about the latest Comic-Con he had attended with a couple of friends, including Jared whom he became well-acquainted sometime last year. Bella was only half-listening to her partner while analyzing some test results when the detectives arrived.

Upon noticing Jacob and Leah near the entrance, Bella dropped everything and forced Eric's attention with a loud snap of her fingers. She motioned him to leave the lab. "You don't know how happy I am to see you both," she announced.

Leah gave Jacob a look and mouthed, "Non-urgent?"

Jacob just shrugged, and then, "Always here to help. What's up?"

Bella retrieved a piece of paper and handed it to Jacob. "I know about them, you know."

"About who?"

"Vampires," Bella said. "The supernatural. Eric had been right all along."

"You're taking the news exceptionally well," Leah said. Bella was even calmer than she had been. And Bella was known for being dramatic and skeptical about anything out of the norm.

"I needed a couple of days to digest everything," Bella said. "Sam told me. When I had brought Sasha and Vasili in. He told me about the ultra-violets as well." She stepped aside and headed to a lab table glued to the wall, picked up a ziplock bag, and returned. She held up the bag; in it was a used bullet emitting dim, blue light. "One bullet to each head. For all three victims—Sasha, Vasili, and Demetri."

"Any updates on the missing bodies?"

" _Bodies_?" Bella feigned ignorance. "What missing bodies?"

Leah nodded, knowing actually what game Bella was playing. "I must be thinking about something else."

Bella sent Leah a thankful look before continuing, "So, two things. Maybe three: yesterday, we've discovered some residue on Jessica's hands: ultra-violet light. Interestingly enough, in liquid-form—I'm still trying to figure out how that was possible. Anyway, at first, we didn't think much about it. See, Jessica was a tanner, but then I recalled while we were doing some preliminary work on Sasha and Vasili— _before_ they went MIA— we found the same thing. Ultraviolet light— matched to the T. Eric and I thought: hey, maybe it's just a coincidence."

"You found out it wasn't," Leah stated.

"We sent the bullet found in Demetri's skull to forensics. The substances inside matched the light residue," Bella said, and then, "So, question: are these bullets popular on the market?"

"Not supposed to be," Jacob said, studying the sheet in his hand. "So, traces of light were found around everyone's wound except for Jessica's. Traces were found Jessica's hands…"

"Because she was handling them," Leah suggested.

"Handing in what manner?" Bella asked, looking between both detectives. The glint in her eye told Leah that the coroner already had an idea.

Jacob's eyes widened when hit with a realization. "So, they _were_ after the bullets..."

"And she got in the way," Leah finished, and then, "Bella, does Sam know about this?"

"Funny, you asked," Bella said. "Look, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I have sinking you're going to find out anyway. I have been _compelled_ by certain forces to rule the Denali's murders as inconclusive, once they're back in my custody."

" _Inconclusive_?" Leah couldn't believe her ears. This sounded like a cover-up. She glanced at Jacob; he didn't seem too surprised or concerned, and it unnerved her.

"That was clearly murder."

"Or murder-suicide," Bella contested, but not with much effort.

"How would that be possible?" Leah questioned. "They had stakes shoved into them."

"Well, for one, the stakes didn't kill them," Bella said, shoving her hands into her lab coat pocket. "It was the bullet. The stakes were inserted post-mortem."

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "By whom?"

Bella shrugged. "Hey, I'm just a medical examiner, not a detective." She aimlessly looked around her lab. "So, is there is a conspiracy going around that I need to know about? Because I'm pretty sure with the rate this whole thing is going, the FBI's going to show up and demand some answers."

"The feds aren't arresting you," Jacob assured.

"Oh, thanks," Bella mumbled. "But this isn't about me, really. This is about the investigation, what will happen during the trial. How can I submit any autopsies as evidence…I mean, what I am supposed to with this? There isn't a protocol for handling corpses that were _vampires_."

"There isn't a protocol because technically, vampires don't exist," Jacob explained, frowning.

Bella rolled her eyes. "That doesn't help me. At all." She crossed her arms. "I suppose I can go to the Sam-route, but..."

"Have you spoken to your supervisor about this?" Jacob asked.

"Of course."

Leah cleared her throat. "And?"

Bella sighed. "Banner said to rule everyone's death, excluding Jessica, as inconclusive... But what if I have to testify? I'm not trying to get charged with perjury."

"If they're smart, this won't go to trial," Jacob said. "Trials are public events, and I'm sure that's the last thing this city needs."

"So, what now?" Leah asked. "I know this isn't our case, but there's some connection."

"I'll talk to Jenks," Jacob told Bella, glancing at his partner. "Off the record, of course."

"Thank you," Bella muttered. Then she cleared her throat and placed her files in her hands aside. "There's something else I have to tell you."

Jacob's attention was on Bella's while Leah's was on her partner.

"What happened?" Jacob carefully asked.

Leah glanced up. "What happened?"

Bella took a deep breath and began pacing around the lab, occasionally pulling on the sleeve of her lab coat. "He came back. Again."

Jacob shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Who?"

"Edward."

Leah cursed.

Jacob blinked. "Excuse me?"

A plan quickly ran through her head as Bella explained everything. This was bad. Perhaps even worse than the missing Denali bodies— things had to change, Leah decided- Completely disregard the Deal and get an arrest warrant. Hunt him down. Get a fucking restraining order. Get that coroner a goddamn detail. One cop for the night; one cop who knew all about this supernatural bullshit.

"That was two ago," Leah pointed out. "Why are you telling us this now?"

At least Bella looked guilty. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

" _You didn't think it was a big deal_ —" Jacob tossed his arms up. "Bella, are you trying to get whacked?"

" _Whacked_?" Bella rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "This isn't _The Sopranos,_ Jacob. No one's getting whacked around here."

"Your friend, Edward Masen, is a member of the Cullen's," Leah pointed out, fighting an irresistible desire to roll her own eyes. "Did he tell you that?"

The look on Bella's face told the detective that he hadn't. " _What_?" Bella breathed, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"A member of a mob family," Leah carried on. "A criminal organization. A group of people involved in illegal dealings that include extortion, illegal arms deal, and murder. You can't be that naïve."

"Who are you calling naive—"

"No one is calling anyone naive," Jacob interjected before Bella and Leah could go at it. He faced Bella. "But perhaps you should have informed us the moment, at least, the moment he left," Jacob carefully explained, and then, "I'm gonna request someone to look over you—"

Bella snorted. "I don't need a damn bodyguard."

Leah rolled her eyes.

"A member of a criminal organization came to you recently, after hours, requesting that stop the Dahlia's autopsy. _Again_." Leah reminded the stubborn medical examiner. "You need protection."

* * *

"Did you have to call her naive?" Jacob asked as he and Leah get into the car. When Leah gave him _that_ look, he just sighed. "Okay, so maybe she should've used better judgment…"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

"But we all make mistakes," Jacob said, putting on his seat belt. "I'm thinking about sending Embry over there. I'll talk to the captain how will talk to Embry's captain about getting some overtime for him. He has a modified scheduled—an extra four hours each weekday could be fine.

"Embry. As in Embry Call?" Leah snorted. "You can't be serious."

"Don't let the baby face fool you. He can handle himself," Jacob insisted, turning on the car and shifting the gear. They were now going to head back to Jessica's crime scene. "Even when face-to-face with vampires."

"And you think he's going to do it?"

"Yes."

* * *

Following lunch, the detectives found themselves back at LaPush.

The LaPush Hotel was slowly but surely returning to normal. The media's presence had dissipated significantly due to the lack of information provided by the police (this time it wasn't because CPD was trying to be coy, they really didn't much information). Not even a damn suspect. The only hotel rooms blocked off on the 29th floor was the two rooms adjacent to the crime scene. Earlier, the detectives had found out from the grapevine that the manager had spiked up the prices for all of the 29th-floor rooms; apparently, they were all in demand because of the high-profile case. The fact that there was still a cop guarding the Dahlia's room helped the manager's case.

Jacob promised this stop was going to be a short one. A half an hour, tops.

Leah didn't mind.

The room, itself, had been cleaned up. No dust bunnies in sight. Not that it mattered in Leah's mind; she still saw everything.

She looked to her right to find Jacob already snooping around. In his hand was a UV Index Meter, courtesy of the forensics department. He was interested in detecting any traces of ultra violet light through the suite.

"So, what happens if we find UV's?"

"We tell the captain," Jacob replied. "And Paul. This can be used as proof that there was an illegal arms deal going on that night."

Leah nodded and announced that she was going head to the actual scene of the crime: the main bedroom. Once inside, she bent down and pulled out a photo taken by CSI on the night of the Dahlia murder, depicting that the victim herself and the bed adjacent to her. She remembered how the bed sheets had been slightly rumpled, but now, it was neatly made. _Shit_ , ran through Leah's mind as she rolled her eyes.

She stood up, took a step back, and held up the photo so that the bed on the piece of photo paper lined up with the bed currently in front of her. She raised an eyebrow— there was the black sequined dress, laid neatly, intact. So, it wasn't ripped off.

 _Did this happen before or after the botched deal_? Leah wondered. No, this had to have been after. No person in their right mind out engage in an alleged arms deal while stark naked. That just wasn't professional.

The hotel cameras didn't show anyone leaving (or entering) the room the entire night.

So, if this was the case, then the guy Lauren had referred some weeks ago, the same guy that Jessica had planned to meet up with, might have been present during the deal. He might have been involved, and he was still not identified.

Leah frowned and dropped her arm. Someone _had_ to have a name. Someone had to have seen him, or whoever, leave.

Leah looked straight ahead. He could've escaped via window, though it might have been hard for him to get down since they were on the 29th floor—

She shook her head again and resumed her inspection. It was evident that Jessica was killed in this room, most likely mid-coitus. But Leah had a feeling that most of the important events happened in the front room. Where Jacob was still snooping around. That was where the deal must have been taking place.

"How did anyone leave this room without detection?" Leah asked, walking into the front room. "The cameras didn't catch anyone."

"The windows?"

"This high up?"

Jacob looked up and shrugged.

"Find anything?"

"Not yet."

"What about—"

" _Bingo_ ," Jacob announced.

Leah approached her partner and examined the spot the UV meter was hovering under. "Well, shit— a deal gone bad."

"A deal gone _very_ bad," Jacob said before asking his partner to mark that very spot. "She was dealing ultra-violets."

"To whom?"

Jacob deeply inhaled and then exhaled. "No traces of a Cullen or a Denali..." he breathed again, ignoring Leah's inquisitive expression. "Shit."

"What?" When Jacob didn't immediately reply, Leah pressed on, "Jacob, what happened?"

He looked up, expression grave. "We need to see Paul," he said. "Now."

* * *

"You have got to be shitting me." Paul read the unofficial report once again. Once done, he handed it back to Leah, shaking his head. " _You have got to be shitting me_."

"I caught of a whiff of Demetri's scent at Bella's and..." Jacob said, "And when I rechecked the hotel room, I picked it up again."

"So, my captain may be onto something about Jessica playing on both sides," Leah said, adjusting in her seat. Both she and Jacob were inside of Paul's office, thankfully, with all of the blinds drawn over the partially glass walls.

Paul made a sound in his throat.

Leah's eyes slightly widened. She remembered seeing Demetri's body; Bell had allowed the detectives to check him out for a moment even though the detectives weren't involved in that specific murder case. "Like a scent, _scent_?"

Jacob ignored Leah's question and continued, "He was there. He was definitely there."

"It's been a month," Paul contested. "Surely, the scent must have faded…"

"He's a vamp," Jacob reminded the captain. "Their _stench_ never goes away."

"You can't be saying that shit around here," Paul warned. "No discrimination within these walls, not even against vampires. Internal Affairs are far up my ass as it is—not that _I've_ personally done anything wrong."

Leah rolled her eyes.

"Like you have any—" Jacob stopped and leaned forward. "You're messing with me..."

"We're an equal-opportunity employer, Detective," Paul said, a smirk slowly forming on his features. "Diversity is key."

"How many?" Leah asked, not entirely believing her ears. But then again, if the force hired shapeshifters (perhaps without their knowledge), then other supernatural beings must be floating around as well.

"A couple," Paul confessed. "But they're not a problem, if that's what you're worried about, Jacob. They're fully committed to the cause. Wonderful at recon."

"And they know about you?" Jacob asked, perhaps too quickly and without much throat. A slight regret ran across his face the moment he finished his question.

"Who?"

"The vampires."

Paul crossed his arms. "They ain't dumb, detective."

Leah looked between Jacob and Paul. No way. _No fucking way_.

She wanted to ask. She never wanted to ask anything more in her life. Even with Sam or Emily being involved. But she suppressed the desire. This was a sensitive subject. Paul could tell her— disprove it or not—on his own time.

"Fine," Jacob eventually said. "No more vampire slander. _Anyway_. Demetri was definitely there, and he had no business being so. He was a high-ranking member of the Volturi. There's no way in Hell the Olympic would be dealing with him."

"Maybe that was the man Lauren was talking about?" Leah suggested.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Lauren?"

"Her roommate," Leah reminded him. "During our first visit to Jessica's apartment, she had mentioned something about Jessica meeting up with a man. A young-looking man. Eastern European, brown hair...maybe that was Demetri."

"How the fuck did _they_ meet?" Paul asked.

"At a club?" Jacob suggested. "You know Demetri love to snoop around there, and Jessica, from all accounts, loved the nightlife."

"You may want to talk to the roommate again," Paul advised. "See if she remembers anything else about Jessica and her little date."

"She said she didn't have many details about Jessica's private life," Jacob said. "They didn't talk much."

"But she knew _something_ ," Paul insisted. "She knew about the necklace. About the trips about her job on the side..."

"You think Demetri was the one who gave her the necklace?" Leah asked Jacob. "He was a part of the Volturi."

"That would be suicidal."

"Not if he wanted to entice anyone," Paul tossed in. "Not if he wanted to get the affections of someone working for the other time. This Jessica, she seemed like the type to be attracted to luxury, and that necklace is fucking priceless."

"You think Sulpicia knew about this?" Leah asked.

"Doubt it," Paul said. "She wouldn't have issued a missing-item report if she had. Also, check with Bella to see if she can match Demetri's bite with the one on Jessica's."

"Good plan," Jacob said.

"Demetri was a vampire, right?" Leah asked.

"Right."

"Look, I know I don't know much about vampires, but..." Leah rubbed her hands together, not believing that she was even entertaining such a theory. "She was bitten by one but wasn't drained. Don't vampires drain blood when they, you know, feed? So, the bite must have been done on purpose... but how, why would she let him...?"

Jacob and Paul shared a look.

"She thought he was going to turn her," Paul offered.

"She wanted to become a vampire?" Jacob asked in disbelief.

"Why else would she let someone bite her, right there?"

"Huh," Jacob said, rubbing his chin. "Maybe they were in the middle of—"

"But the bite was clean," Leah pointed out. "If there were in the middle of _relations_ and he bit her, and she didn't want it, wouldn't she have pushed him away or something? Lauren described her as being a fighter. There would have been more marks, not a clean bite."

Jacob scoffed and shook his head. "So, our number one suspect is currently chilling in one of Bella's freezers. There goes our case."

"Maybe," Paul said. "I know it'll suck for your stats, but this case may lead us to something much bigger. In the center of this case is an illegal arms ring. Featuring the fabulous ultra-violets. We have proof—well, sort of—that two associates for two rival mob families were involved. The Cullens and the Volturi. This is _fucking_ huge."

"Good for you," Jacob mumbled, and then, "Leah, do you think Demetri was in all of this?"

"In what?" Leah questioned. "The deal?"

Jacob nodded.

"Well, he must have been," she said. "Maybe that's what enticed him. The fact that he was getting close to a Cullen-associate. He must have known…"

"He was a member of the Volturi," Paul reminded everyone, though there wasn't much to remind. "Why would she tell him shit?"

"Maybe she didn't know," Jacob offered.

Paul snorted. "Even humans know that Demetri worked with the Volturi."

"But she might have not," Leah contested. "Maybe she thought she could trust Demetri— he was a charmer, I hear. Maybe he was the one who had given her the necklace. After all, she had a weakness for the finer things in life."


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

* * *

The dinner with Sue and Seth was nice.

And simple.

Leah appreciated simple. Simple meant no drama. Simple meant she could enjoy a home-cooked meal after a long day at work and not to stress about a goddamn thing. Forget about everything. Just for a little while, one hour, tops.

Sue was being her usual supportive, pleasant self. Seth was just being Seth, rambling on about school and his plans to take the police exam. For once, Leah didn't question him about it, whether or not he thought he was ready or finally thought of another career path. She was beginning to give up on that fact; Seth could be just as stubborn as she was.

It wasn't until Seth finally left to spend some time at a friend's house did Sue mention anything about Sam or Emily. "I still have no words," she said over a cup of tea.

Leah stared down at her cup and sighed. She wanted to avoid this conversation, especially since the fatigue was finally hitting her. But she knew she couldn't back out of this. She had promised her mother she would talk. "It is what it is..."

"So blasé?"

Leah looked up, a little irritated. But perhaps Sue was right. This entire situation wasn't something to gloss over by saying, "It is what it is." It was serious. It had grave implications. She would be pitching a fit, throwing things. Yelling at the top of her lungs. Cursing Emily and Sam to Hell and back… but she was beginning to get weary of always being angry. She already had her moment, at the restaurant, at her home; she was positive that if Emily and Sam didn't get the picture then, they certainly did now.

She still hadn't heard from Sam.

Or Emily.

"I know you don't want to do this, but I think you both need to see someone. Together," Sue continued before taking a sip of her hot herbal drink. "A professional who can provide sound advice."

"You can't just do it?"

"I admit I've never been in your situation," Sue said, "I fear I may have actually pulled the trigger—See, I wouldn't be much of a help."

Leah slightly smiled. It also amazed her how much she and her mother were alike; not many people knew that. "It took a lot of willpower not to. I didn't want to go to jail. Lose my pension. Become a felon. Not over him."

"Not over a man," Sue quietly agreed. "Most of the time, it isn't worth it."

"Exactly," Leah agreed. "That wasn't my best moment."

"I suppose it showed Sam not take you lightly. Sometimes they need a push…"

Leah snorted. "Yeah, I guess..."

"I can ask Max to move around some seats for the reception," Sue offered. "I'm sure he'll understand, given the circumstances."

The wedding. It was only a few days away. Goodness, Leah wished she didn't have to go, but it wouldn't be right. Neither would her mother's suggestion, in her opinion.

"No," Leah said sternly. "No, no, please don't. Look I know how weddings are, and the last thing Max or Stephanie needs is a seat change request."

Sue was skeptical. "You're okay with sharing the same table as them?"

"I'll be fine," Leah insisted. "Really. I'm a homicide detective, remember? I deal with uncomfortable situations all the time."

"But nothing as personal as this."

Leah closed her eyes and signed, unable to come up with a decent come back.

"I'm not even concerned about you. Not even Sam. I think you both can control your emotions when the opportunity arises," Sue said. "But Emily. She's always been on the impulsive side. I don't want anything to… boil over at the wedding. It wouldn't be fair to the bride and groom."

Leah nodded. Yeah, that would be messed up. "I think she's genuinely sorry."

Sue deeply sighed. "I think she's genuinely sorry she got caught," she maintained. "If she were sorry, she would've stopped years ago."

"Mom..."

"Tell me, if you didn't catch them in the act, do you think they'll ever clean?"

"Sam, no," Leah admitted, though it hurt. Sam was never the type to come completely clean, especially doing so would put him in a bad light. "Emily, maybe."

"Exactly," Sue said, shaking her. "Impulsive, that girl is." She snorted. "I can't believe this. Of all people to be, she chooses your husband. She's my blood. My niece; I'll forever love her but she's testing me— Did you speak to him about this?"

"I didn't give him time to talk."

"Do you want to work on it?"

"The marriage? She's pregnant, Mom," Leah said, batting away her threatening tears. She was sick and tired of crying over _that_ man and _that_ woman. "What is there to work on? It's not like she and the baby are going to disappear. Sam's not going to ignore his child; he's not like that... There's always going to be a constant reminder, and I don't think I can handle that."

* * *

"You know what's fucked up about this entire situation? I still love him. There is still a sliver of hope in the back of my mind that thinks he'll find the light or some shit like that. That he'll leave her, and come back to me, and only me. That we can get past all of this..." Leah scoffed and shook her head when Jacob gave her a doubtful look. " _I know_ it's complete bullshit. That I should move on with my life—"

"There's plenty of fish in the sea," Jacob interjected, leaning back against the restaurant booth. The detectives were having a quick brunch on Devon Avenue before heading back to work.

"Well, maybe I should spend some time by myself. I don't need to be in a relationship to live my life," Leah said. "And anyway, I need a divorce first before getting involved. Because I actually _stick_ to my vows."

"He's an idiot," Jacob remarked, grumbling. "A goddamn idiot."

Leah stared down at her plate of saag paneer, daal, and naan. "Yeah…"

"Are you going to…?"

"Get a divorce?" Leah finished. "I think it's for the best. I—" She let out a deep, tired breath. _"That baby_. That baby is going to be a constant reminder for the rest of my life. I don't think I can handle it. I mean, we can never go back to how it was before."

Jacob took a sip of his coke. "Yeah, you really can't."

"What about you?" Leah asked.

Jacob almost choked on his drink. "Huh?"

"Your divorce," Leah clarified. "How did you know it was time? What did you do about it? Did you fight it?"

Jacob didn't immediately respond to Leah's question. Instead, he reached out for his second sandwich of the meal, chicken chili paratha (best thing since steak, he had declared), took a couple of bites and washed it down with his soft drink. Then he pushed the plate aside, crossing his arms, frowning at the table.

Leah just watched him, feeling regretful about even mentioning Jacob's previous marriage. He never really did talk about it, only mentioning it a few times with vague details. "Look, Jacob, you don't—"

"There was an assignment a couple of years back," Jacob finally began. "Undercover. I had to infiltrate a sex ring— fucked me up bad. I spent four months working with a sadistic pimp..." He trailed off and shook his head. "He and his friends _did_ things, and—" he stopped to clear his throat. "I was a mess afterWards. Was forced off the streets and onto desk duty for the rest of the year. I hated it. I understood _why_ I had to, but I hated it, and I got frustrated and..."

"You don't have to continue…"

Jacob gave her an exasperated look. "Monica was a wonderful woman, _is_ a wonderful woman. Seriously everything I've ever wanted. But everyone has a limit, and I with this job was testing hers... After a while, she couldn't take it, and she gave me the papers." He stared at his lunch and shook his head. "Plus, I didn't tell her about _me_."

" _What_?"

"I know I should've. It was a stupid and cowardly move on my part, but I didn't want her to think that I was some freak." Jacob confessed. "She was superstitious like that, extremely religious at times... I don't think she wanted to deal with a shape-shifter. But one night, I had to go on a run with some friends out in the woods in Wisconsin, and when I came back, I don't know why, but I abruptly shifted, and—"

"I'm guessing she didn't take it well."

"Slight understatement," Jacob muttered and shrugged. "She promised not to say the word just as long as I sign the papers without a fight."

"Did you want to?"

"No."

"But you did have any other choice."

"It wouldn't have been fair to her," Jacob said. "I had already put her through enough."

* * *

Later that afternoon, Paul called Leah and Jacob into his office.

At this rate, Leah was convinced that by the end of the month, she was going assigned to two different captains. At least, her actual captain had been a good sport about it; Paul must have convinced him with some incentive— Jacob was convinced that had been the case as well.

"I'd thought you'd want to speak to Riley before I have to let him go," Paul had told the detectives when they reached his office.

"Let him go?" Jacob asked before finishing his coffee and tossing the cup into the nearest trash can.

"He's been here for a while," Paul explained. "You know I can't keep him in custody without good reason. And he still doesn't have a lawyer."

"I thought you got him to talk?" Leah asked.

"Oh, I _did_ ," Paul confirmed. "But unless you want to charge him for aggravated assault because he attacked a cop, which means the Deal will have to be involved—"

"I get it," Leah said. "Let's talk to him."

Paul nodded. "Sure thing," he said, leading them to the interview rooms. "Now, if you can connect him with your case, I'll get to keep him for a bit without the chief or Jenks having a conniption." He stopped in front of the room where Riley was sitting in. "The Dahlia case is still a hot one. They'll have no issue relaxing certain protocols if we have a damn good case."

"Understood," Jacob said. "Have he been fed with, _you know_?"

Paul scoffed. "Who do you think I am? An amateur? Of course, I fed him. The last thing I need is a supernatural incident because I didn't give him some blood. _Synthetic blood_."

* * *

"Good morning, Riley," Paul said, singing, as he entered the room with Leah and Jacob following right after him. He was relaxed as he adjusted the lighting to fit the vampire's need. To make Riley more attentive, he would reason later. After that, he faced the perp with that damn smirk that would have infuriated Leah if she was on the other side of the law and cocked his head in the direction of the detectives. "Remember them?"

Riley didn't respond.

Leah and Jacob finally took their seats as Paul remained standing at the door—he wasn't going to stay here, Leah decided. Interesting. Generally, the captain _loved_ sitting in interrogations.

She took out a pen and paper, neatly put the items on the desk, and folded her hands. Waiting for the offender across form her to understand the fact that he wasn't getting out of this room without saying a word. The only reason why Paul had kept here, housed him, fed with without getting the others involved was because he was going to talk. Paul had said that Riley couldn't keep his mouth shut the last time; Leah wanted to see if Paul was right.

Jacob didn't pull out a notepad, but he was engaging in an intense staring, more like glaring, contest with the vampire. Leah supposed that Jacob was taking this personal; after all, Riley had shot him. With a silver bullet. If the man's aim hadn't been so bad, Jacob would have been seriously injured.

She wondered if Riley was still sour about her shooting _him_.

The look on his face when Riley directed his attention to the detective finally told her the truth. He was pissed; if he were any other man, Leah would have cut him some slack. But he was a criminal. A man, a vampire, who thought it was a good idea to attack two cops. She would feel sorry for him.

"Yes," Riley finally said.

It took Leah a moment to realize just what the man was responding to. She nodded, and for the first time, she was able to get a good look at Riley since the warehouse incident. This was the first time Leah had a good look at Riley since the warehouse incident. He looked _young_. Low-twenties, probably not even twenty-one yet.

"Talk," Paul ordered.

"I have nothing to say," Riley gritted out.

Leah and Jacob exchanged a look.

Paul didn't like the answer. "You were singing last time," he said. "Wouldn't shut up. What changed?"

Riley's glare shifted to the captain. "I'm not afraid of you. Any of you. I did my talking, and that's it."

"You did your talking for me," Paul pointed out. "But not for these detectives. Ain't that right?"

"Exactly right," Jacob said, smirking at the increasing irritated man. "So, here's the deal," he started. "You either cooperate, or you spend the rest of your immortal life in Alcatraz. You see, attacking a couple of cops with a violet weapon will get you some time."

Leah tried to suppress any expression of confusion. She couldn't let Riley know that she wasn't completely clear about what Jacob was talking about. Alcatraz? That prison was closed _years_ ago— she thought she did a good job.

Riley snorted, seemingly incredulous as well. "You mean Arizona."

 _Arizona_. The state that housed a facility that technically didn't exist; just like Paul's unit. It was a standard prison for those not considered humans, located in the middle of the desert, one mile deep. Ninety-nine point nine-nine percent of taxpayers were unaware of its existence, and it would be best to keep it that way.

"Arizona" didn't seem to faze Riley.

Paul took a step forward. "He meant _Alcatraz,_ and you know they won't feed you the good stuff. They'll force you into the light; force you real food. Human food. Meat all cleaned up with not a speck of red in sight. You'll starve, and no one would be blamed except for yourself."

Leah wanted to turn around and give the captain a questionable look. The way Paul made it sound, Alcatraz would be torture for the vampires; vampires couldn't stand the light or the thought of never having blood again. Was this right? Was this legal? It had to be a violation of the 8th Amendment, speaking cruel and unusual treatment. But maybe, it could all be a bluff, after all this was an interrogation.

But Paul wasn't known for bluffing. He usually meant every word he said; a blessing and a curse.

"The choice is yours, Riley," Jacob followed. "All yours."

" _Fuck you_."

The room fell into a tense silence with Jacob and Riley engaging in a glaring-contest. Leah carefully watching them both, and Paul still standing in front of the closed door. Moments later, the captain broke the silence with a loud snort. "If you know what's best for you, Riley, you cooperate. We're not like the others—"

" _I know that,_ " Riley spat, leaning against the back of his chair, crossing his arms and scrunching up his nose. He reminded Leah of a spoiled teenager throwing a passive-aggressive tantrum.

"Good." Paul stood up straight and told the detectives. "I'll back in a few. You good with him?"

Jacob's smirk didn't falter, and that didn't escape Leah's notice. He knew something. He had something on Riley, and only he (and possibly Paul) knew about it. She nodded at the captain.

When Paul finally left the interview (interrogation) room, the silence returned, and Riley, surprisingly, seemed to be slowly dropping his resolve. That, Leah found extremely interesting.

"So, how about it?" Leah offered.

"You shot me," Riley snapped.

"And you shot me," Jacob returned. " _First_."

"I was just doing my job."

"So was I," Leah shot back at Riley. "Consider yourself lucky backup didn't arrive. I think you would've been in a completely different situation."

Riley grunted.

"But we're not here to talk about that night," Jacob insisted. "Heck, for the time being, let's believe none of that even happened. I'm all healed up. You're still... functioning. Let's turn a new leaf."

Riley scoffed. "I'm not a dumbass, you know."

"Which why you're still here, and not in the pits of Cook County, in the process of getting shipped out west," Leah said. "Because we know you're not a dumbass. And we know you're smart enough to know that Alcatraz can be a very viable place of residence in the new future, depending on your response."

That seemed to set Riley straight. He finally relented. "What you do want from me?"

Leah and Jacob exchanged a look before Jacob responded. "Information about the Chicago Dahlia case."

"Who?"

"Oh, come on, Riley, I know you've heard about that case," Jacob said. "Everyone's heard about that case."

Leah decided to refresh Riley's memory by pulling out a photo, Jessica's mutilated body in color and all, and slid it across the table, resting just a couple of inches away from the young man. " _Her_ ," she said. "Jessica Stanley. A human. Murdered on her twenty-fourth birthday at LaPush."

"I had nothing to do with that," Riley quickly said, diverting his gaze from the explicit photo.

"That's not what we want to hear," Jacob warned him.

"Look, I already told you. I didn't do it. I wasn't there. Fuck, do you think I wanted her to die?" Riley insisted. "She was a _human_ , damn it. Killing her violated the terms of the Deal."

"And shooting a cop isn't?" Leah challenged.

" _He's_ not a human," Riley replied, shifting his attention to Jacob, narrowing his eyes. "Therefore, fair game."

Leah gave the young vampire a flat look.

Jacob just snorted. "What do you know about her murder?"

"Nothing much. I wasn't there," Riley said, glancing at the photo before grimacing. "Didn't even know the girl."

"The last time we had met," Leah said. "You mentioned you and your people patrolling that particular warehouse, right?"

"Right."

"She was there," Leah carried on, now pulling out another photo. A damning photo of Jessica standing in the middle of the warehouse with several men and large crate with light, suspiciously seeping out of the wooden crevices. "Some time back. Since this warehouse belongs to your boss, I can assume that someone knew about this. Someone knew about her."

Riley was going to contest everything; Leah could see the resistance in his eyes, but then he suddenly just let it go. Relented. Sitting up in his chair, he leaned over, cursed under his breath, and then pointed at the photo, his finger tapping on the shape of a shadowy figure. A man.

"Him," Riley said. "She came with him."

Leah picked up the photo and examined it before handing it to her partner.

He did the same.

"Got a name?" Jacob asked.

"You should know him," Riley responded. "He recently offed himself. _Allegedly_."

"Name?" Leah pressed, writing into her notepad.

Riley huffed. "Demetri."

Leah swallowed her gasp. _Oh_ , no wonder Paul had thanked her for bringing Riley to him. That man might only be a soldier, a mere associate, but he knew some shit. Some valuable shit— she had to make sure Riley didn't know that she was loving this.

She was sure Jacob was feeling the same.

"You said, allegedly," Leah said. "You don't think he killed himself?"

"Ha! That motherfucker?" Riley let out an incredulous grunt and shook his head. "He's the most narcissistic person I've ever met, and _I_ work for Victoria. He'd never kill himself. Someone got to him."

"Who?"

Riley was finally beginning to relax; that boded well for the detectives. "Don't know."

"Do you have an idea?"

"Well, it gotta be a rival, right?" Riley said, shrugging. He did that a lot, Leah observed. "Maria fucking hated his guts because some drama centuries back—she's in charge of the Velasquez cartel."

"Also known as the Mexican coven," Jacob added.

Riley nodded, seemingly impressed that Jacob knew that. "Exactly." He shrugged _again_. "And then there's the Cullen's; they hate the Volturi with a passion. But my money's on Tanya."

"From the Denali's," Leah verified.

"Correct."

Leah called for an aside.

* * *

"Retaliation."

"Yep."

"Tanya must have thought that the Volturi had something to do with Sasha and Vasili's murder," Leah suggested. "I wouldn't put it past her to put on a hit like that."

"But why would the Volturi want Vasili and Sasha—" Jacob stopped, eyes widened. " _Vasili_."

Leah blinked. "I'm not following you…"

"Let's get back inside."

* * *

Jacob was the first to speak. "What do you know about Vasili Denali?"

"Not a damn thing. Except that he was a baby."

"Vampires make babies…?" Leah asked. "How is that possible?"

Riley bristled. "I'm not sure myself…"

"Did your boss have a problem with it?"

Riley scoffed. "She couldn't give a rat's ass."

"Did the Volturi?"

"I don't know. _Maybe_? Look, all I know is that the Volturi has a set of rules. Like a vampire code, and they take that shit _seriously_."

Leah made a note to tell Sam about this information. They might not be talking to each other on a personal level, but they did have a professional obligation.

She also made a note to have Jacob explain to her about Alcatraz. Because Alcatraz was supposed to be a former infamous prison-turned-tourist attraction. Not a possible place for the incarceration of vampires—and why was Riley so concerned about going _there_.

"Okay, let go the main point of our little talk," Jacob said. "Jessica Stanley, the warehouse, and Demetri—how did you know about this meeting?"

Riley's reply was delayed, but he seemed to have snapped out of his rut upon glancing between at the detectives and the damning photo. "I was there," he admitted.

"You attended it?" Leah asked.

"I'm just a guard," Riley reminded the detective. "I wasn't a participant."

"But you saw them both," Jacob verified.

"Yep, from start to finish."

Leah nodded as she jotted down some notes, and then, "Can you explain their behavior towards each other?"

Riley shrugged. "They were fucking," he said definitively. "You can practically _smell_ their lust rolling off of them."

Jacob and Leah exchanged a glance. _That_ certainly added credence to Leah's captain's suspicions: Jessica was playing on two different teams, who despised each other.

"What else can you tell us about them?" Jacob asked.

Riley stared at the photo again. He rolled eyes, not at the detectives, but the two people in the picture; something Leah found particularly _interesting_. "She was new to the game."

"How do you know?"

"She didn't know shit," Riley said, snorting. But it was clear that he wasn't mocking Bree, just the entire situation. "Demetri was explaining every little thing to her. About the codenames for certain products and actions. And how to conduct deals. It was like a goddamn training session."

"She worked for the Cullen's."

"From what I've heard."

Leah cleared her throat. "And Demetri was _helping_ her?"

"Like I said, they were fucking," Riley said. "She was so stupid. Eating up all of Demetri's usual bullshit. She didn't know the fuck she was doing or _who_ she was doing. She was fucking human—" His eyes flickered to Leah. "No offense."

"None taken," Leah said, glancing up from her notes. "Carry on."

"Like I said: I don't know much about her. But the Cullen's and the Denali's never hire humans. It's too fucking messy. They ask too many questions. Get into too much trouble..." Riley paused for a dry cough. "So, I don't know why she's there."

"Maybe she was special?" Leah offered.

"Her? Special?" Riley scoffed and shook his head. "If she was special, she would have been turned already. She was never going to get turned, not by one of us. Not by the Cullen's and definitely not by the Volturi. We have _standards_."

"Nice to know that you do," Jacob remarked, deadpanned. "So, why would a boss let a human like her involved?"

Riley shrugged.

"Think," Leah implored. "If you were the boss, why bring in a human into your affairs."

"If I was a boss..." Riley sat up in his seat. "Hey, she was hot."

Leah wanted to throw her notepad. "You've to be kidding me."

"Oh, come on, isn't that motivation enough?"

"You're telling me what you would employ a human only if she were _hot_?" Leah shook her head. "Really?"

"It can be an incentive," Jacob commented, seemingly not surprised by Riley's remark, much to Leah's surprise. "Hot girls make a good incentive."

Leah shot her partner a look.

"Especially hot girls who know their way around a di—" Riley abruptly stopped when he caught Leah's harsh glare. He cleared his throat. "You know what I mean."

"Like who?"

Riley shrugged. "Dunno. I work for Victoria; she worked for the Cullen's."

Jacob nodded, leaned back against the chair, arms crossed, studying Riley. "I got a question," he started, and then, "Why do this? Why cut this poor girl up?"

"How the hell should I know?" Riley said, throwing up his hands. "I can't read minds."

"Give us your opinion," Leah suggested sternly.

"Something like that: the cutting up and shit… It couldn't just be about her," Riley quietly said. "At least, I highly doubt it. If Demetri or whoever wanted her dead, they would've done it already and in a less bloody way. Unless she pissed someone off."

Leah cocked her head towards the exit, and soon exited the room with Jacob following right behind.

* * *

"Let's not put him away."

Jacob gawked at his partner. "Leah—"

"I know I'm not like you with heightened senses or whatever," Leah said, "But I _can_ read facial expressions. I can pick up the tones behind words. Riley's not like that. He's not fully committed to Victoria's cause. He just flipped in a way I've never seen before. Maybe we can use him?"

"For what?"

"Well, we don't have much for the Dahlia case," Leah said. "We don't even have a clear suspect besides Demetri who's obviously out of commission; we need more information. Bringing any of them in is pretty much out of the question because—"

"Of the Deal," Jacob finished.

"Correct." Leah nodded. "So, we have Riley be our C.I. because we need one, and we need one bad. You saw how quickly he flipped, and we've only threatened him with life in prison. I'm sure he'll be up some for two-timing. He may be useful for other cases. Once he gets a lawyer."

Jacob wasn't completely convinced, Leah could tell. Then moments later, he glanced at the interview room door and sighed. "Fuck it."

* * *

It was 5:00 pm when Leah got the notification that Riley, with his public defender present, accepted the terms of the deal.

She smiled in triumph.

Detectives Uley and Black got themselves a confidential informant.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

* * *

Leah got the call at 11:00 pm.

From Sam, of all people. It was so bizarre, seeing Sam's name blaring on the phone screen, that Leah had to do a double-take to make sure that it was her Sam. _formally_ , Sam. Not the Sam from Property or the Sam from the bar down the street.

Snapping out of her sleep-induced daze and finally deciding that it was indeed her husband on the other line, Leah sat up in her bed and accepted the call after the fourth ring.

Multiple-homicide, according to him. Murder-Two, possibly Murder-One in the formally Union Stock Yards located on the Southside, which was outside of her and Jacob's jurisdiction. They were assigned to the Central Area, not the South Area.

This wasn't her problem; she decided as she hung up the phone, only to pick it up seconds later. It was Jacob, informing her that he would pick her up in twenty minutes.

And now, Sam's problem officially became _her_ problem.

Leah cursed after the call ended and jumped out of her bed, annoyed at the ill-timing of the night and the sudden abdominal pain caused by the ill-timing of the month—but in the end, she couldn't be surprised by the new, inconvenient development. Working on cases outside of an assigned area happened all the time.

"How bad is it?" Leah asked before popping a couple of Advil's into her mouth as she got into her partner's car. Her cramps needed to get their shit together and soon.

"Sam doesn't call people," Jacob said, concerned. "Not like this."

No, he did not.

When the detectives arrived at the scene of the crime—an abandoned, dilapidated building located in the far right corner of what was once the infamous Union Stockyards—they did not see the bustling crowd of EMT's and cops like they had with the Chicago Dahlia's scene. No media were present. No onlookers were around. Only two police cars; three unmarked. An EMT and the coroner's van. A couple of cops were hanging outside of the building, one with a cigarette in his hand, and the other with caution tape.

This wasn't what Leah had expected. She had expected chaos; that was how Sam had made it seem.

"He better not be busting our balls," Jacob grumbled as he exited the car. It was now fifteen past midnight. The area was relatively quiet and cold with an inch of snow on the ground. "It's too late for bullshit."

"Reserve your judgment until we go inside," Leah suggested, heading into the building. The place had been out of commission for decades, but Leah swore she could pick up the smell of meat and animal blood... and it made her nauseous. And a bit relieved that the only meat she ate was fish. "There's a reason why he called us here."

Leah had to use extra caution as she walked up the three steps into the stone building—the only structure still in existence inside the Union Stock Yards, save for the large, stone entrance gate. Leah wondered what was so special about this building; sure, it was more than a hundred years old, but its significance wasn't important enough to be preserved.

"I should have kept my ass at home."

Leah scoffed at her partner's complaining before she entered the building, greeting everyone she passed by. Each step creaked. There were a few holes in the wooden floor; there was debris everywhere: old papers, decaying wooden slabs, tools, and rusted metal rods. She stopped upon realizing she realized she was walking along a thin, long trail of blood.

She raised an eyebrow at Jacob who had noticed the blood as well. Grimacing, he had his nose scrunched up as if he was inhaling something putrid. "Fuck."

"What?"

"The smell."

Leah raised an eyebrow; her nose didn't pick up anything but must and old wood. Instead, she pointed at the blood. "Still fresh. The smell, is it from that?"

"No."

Leah nodded and continued to walk further when it appeared that Jacob wasn't going to explain his discomfort. The place was creepy, without a doubt. An ideal place for a horror movie. If she weren't already surrounded by so much law enforcement, she would have pulled out her Glock, _just in case_.

"C'mon."

The action was primarily concentrated in a large open space towards the center of the first floor. The entire area was dark save for the few places illuminated by make-shift lamps. EMT's were gathering their things— _no survivors_ — and numerous cops and CSI's were roaming around with their flashlights, searching for any useful evidence.

At the corner of her eye, Leah saw someone she hadn't expected: Embry Call, a cop she could have sworn was assigned to a narcotics unit. He was speaking to an investigator, standing over a pool of blood.

"Surprised the media isn't here," Leah remarked.

"Thank the Lord for that."

As she walked further inside, Leah finally caught sight of Sam, hovering over a bloodied body in the middle of the open space, muttering something to Dr. Eric Yorkie.

She didn't want to talk to him. Not even look at him. She had spent the last couple of days achieving peace with herself, accepting her reality, calming her nerves... she didn't need for all of that progress to dissipate just by being around him.

But what was she going to do? Go to her higher-ups and demand yet another transfer? No, that would only create more problems and add to the belief that she couldn't do her job without making it personal. _Personal_? Leah had to snort. She didn't make anything personal. Sam had—if he had just stuck to his vows, no one would be in this position.

And Emily wouldn't be pregnant—

For a reason unbeknownst to her, Leah couldn't help but feel more enraged at Emily. Sure, Sam was her husband, and monogamy was fully expected... but _Emily_ — Leah shook her head. She wished she could strangle her cousin, but she was now pregnant. The baby inside of her didn't deserve Leah's wrath.

She shook her head again. No time for this.

When Sam finally looked up, he froze. He froze as if he hadn't expected to see his wife. He froze as if he hadn't been the one requesting Leah and Jacob to come to _his_ crime scene. He froze as if time had stopped.

They had to keep their differences outside of the crime scene. But the moment the estranged couple locked eyes, the moment they stood only an arm-length from each other, everything—every shout, every argument, every tear shed from the past month, and a half had flooded Leah's mind, temporary rendering her unaware of her surroundings and her duties as a public servant.

She had to divert her gaze to regain reason.

Jacob was standing next to her, stiff as he exchanged the usual pleasantries with Sam.

Leah's attention didn't return her husband until he spoke up. He greeted her, carefully and void of any emotion. He wasn't speaking to his wife, his voice told Leah, but just another person. Another cop, someone he didn't know very well and wasn't too interested in knowing.

Jacob picked up on that, too.

Leah greeted her husband back. She tried to mask her anger and bitterness for the man; she tried to be impassive, but judging on the awkward clearing of Jacob's throat, and the flash of frustration, laced with guilt in Sam's eyes, Leah knew she wasn't entirely successful.

She gave Sam a tight, forced smile.

Sam returned it.

* * *

"Thank you for coming out here, especially at this time," Sam said before motioning the detectives to follow him into an area away from all of the commotion, next to an old electric panel dated back to 1939, Leah noted for no particular reason.

"I don't do this very often," Sam continued, tapping his right pants pocket. He was searching for a cigarette, Leah figured. He must be stressed out of his mind. "But I felt like I had no choice."

Leah considered offering her husband the one loose cigarette she had in Jacob's car, but the bitter side of her wanted the man in front of her to suffer just like she had. In the end, she decided to keep the offer to herself. It was then when she noticed what should have been the obvious. Sam was alone. His partner, James Porter, a veteran detective who, according to rumors, spent more time counting down until retirement than actual police work, was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Porter?" Leah asked.

Sam gave her a look before pointing behind him. She didn't see her husband's partner, only Embry snooping around with his notepad and flashlight.

"You're kidding."

"He's just an officer," Jacob said, trying to hold back his laughter. Not necessarily about Embry, Leah concluded, because Jacob saw him as a little brother, but because of Sam's luck. First, a seasoned Sergeant as a partner, and now just an officer. "Who the hell did _you_ piss off?"

"No one," Sam snapped, quickly glancing at Leah. "It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with that moron."

"Why are we here?" Leah asked. "Why aren't you taking his case for yourself and… Embry? I have a strong feeling that this one is going to be a major homicide case."

"Because I try not to be selfish," Sam said, pointedly avoiding his wife's sharp gaze. "I want this case, but then I realized after some snooping around that there may be a connection with the Dahlia case."

"Go on," Jacob said, now fully interested. "What you got so far?"

"Three bodies, literally slaughtered in a fucking slaughterhouse."

"How fitting," Leah mumbled.

"I'll show you them soon," Sam promised. "But we also found some ultra-violets, and I called some folks in Paul's unit, and they said that this place right here, Cullen's territory. Wasn't your girl working for them?"

Jacob and Leah shared a look.

"We have reason to believe so," Leah said, eyeing her husband. "So, the victims may be associated with the Cullen's?"

"Maybe," Sam said, and then, "Come on, I'll show you the damage."

* * *

Victim Number One was hard to digest.

Leah recoiled at the sight of the body. Or what was left of it. This hadn't been a straightforward killing, a simple stabbing, or a death by gunshot. It was something somehow more disturbing than the Dahlia's. Maybe it was the disorganization of it all. The large gashes on the body seemingly had no pattern, no defined target. Just torn up clothes, ripped skin and so much blood.

Jacob knelt next to her.

Sam did the same.

"White male, about 6-4," Jacob said. "Looked like he worked out. Judging by the lack of wrinkled skin, couldn't be that old."

There wasn't much else the detective could provide. The victim's face was destroyed beyond recognition.

"He's not the only one," Sam said, standing up and motioning the partners to follow him. Moments later, the three were standing around the body of Victim Number Two. This time, a young woman, killed in the same fashion except that her face was visible.

 _Goodness, she couldn't have been more than sixteen,_ Leah observed in disgust and sadness. _What a way to go._

Eric was kneeling over her, doing an inspection. This was the first time Leah had seen Eric attending a crime scene by himself. But he seemed to be holding his own—Bella, who even Leah could admit was overworked, would appreciate that.

Caucasian female. Long wavy brown hair. Brown eyes. Wearing a pair of jeans and a pink hoodie. In fifteen-degree weather. She must have had her coat somewhere else...

Leah got a better look at the victim, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the young woman's mouth, slightly aghast with a set of fangs inside.

She looked up at Jacob.

He just cleared his throat.

"Got anything new for us?" Sam asked Eric.

Eric made a sound and picked up a small pink wallet from the victim's side. He handed it to the detective. "Got an ID. Presumably."

Sam opened the wallet and pulled out an ID card. An under-21 Driver's permit. "Bree Tanner," he read. "Aged 16 from Schaumberg."

He returned the card and cursed.

Leah soon asked for her husband to hand her the wallet. Sifting through it, she pulled out a worn photo and froze, catching the attention of the other detectives. She then carefully gave the picture her partner, who immediately looked down and cursed.

Bree was in the picture, standing next to the detective's newest informant. Riley.

These couldn't have been the Cullen's people. Riley had claimed numerous times that he, or any members of the James Gang, would _off_ themselves before associating with the Cullen's.

Jacob and Leah shared a look of concern.

Sam didn't notice. Instead, he asked Eric, "Cause of death? And in laymen's terms this time."

"Exsanguination," Embry replied, now examining the victim's face and neck. "Literally bled to death. But can't find any bullet or direct stabbing wounds... all of these marks were slashes."

"From a knife?" Leah suggested.

Eric shrugged. "Can't confirm, but I doubt it. Maybe a machete... These people were _shredded_. Liked clawed to death. Like someone had run a rake down their bodies..." He looked up. "What do you guys think?"

Sam frowned. "You're the medical examiner."

"Oh, I have a strong feeling about how this all happened," Eric insisted, "But I'm not sure if people want to hear or accept it."

Jacob cursed under his breath and slapped his forehead.

Leah shook her head, resigned.

"Let's hear it," Sam demanded, crossing his arms.

"Werewolves," Eric said. "Maybe the work of the Children of the Moon."

"Of _fucking_ course," Jacob grumbled under his breath.

Leah looked at the men around her, one by one. They all appeared disturbed, but completely knowledgeable about the "Children of the Moon," and once again, she had to ask for a reference. "Who?"

"Werewolves," Jacob explained. "The real ones. The ones all of those horror stories talked about." He peered at the coroner. "How the hell do you know all about this anyway?"

"Good question," Sam added.

"I'm into the supernatural genre," Eric said with a half-shrug. "And I'm not as much of a skeptic as everyone else in my field. Especially not after the St. Patrick's debacle." He let out a deep breath. "So, do you want us to take them to our place and rule them as inconclusive?"

Leah and Jacob looked at Sam.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Eric. "You know about that?"

"Of course, I do. I work with Bella all the time, and despite when she thinks, she can't hold water for anything," Eric said, and then, "So, how about it?"

"No," Jacob answered, shaking his head. "Just find how they died, and we'll work on catching those fuckers."

Sam cut Jacob a look.

"You're going to _arrest_ the Children of the Moon?" Eric asked, surprised.

"No, the people who _convinced_ them to do their dirty look," Jacob said. "They're rabid; it's like bringing a wild animal to jail—it ain't gonna work."

* * *

Victim Number Three looked like a cross between Number One and Number Two.

While Eric stayed back with Bree, the detectives checked out the last known victim, a large, white male whose body was found at the back of the room.

Leah knelt, put on some gloves, and opened the wallet that sat next to the victim. She pulled out a Driver's License, and read, "Vincent Marino. DOB: 12/25/74. From Cicero, Illinois. Ring a bell?"

"Arms dealer," Jacob said. "Real piece of work. Was supposed to be convicted on federal charges, but his lawyer was fucking amazing. Only state charges—served five years."

"You sure that's him?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I'll never forget his face. I arrested him." Jacob bent down next to the body. "First case as a detective. Funny how life works..."

"Human?" Sam asked.

"Un-fucking-fortunately." Jacob ran a hand down his face, sighed, and got up. "But there won't be uproar about him. Not like Jessica. He was a thug, a lifelong one; no one cares about a thug."

Leah couldn't entirely agree. Just because Vince might have been on the wrong side of the law didn't mean he hadn't been important to someone. What about his family? What about his friends? She continued to inspect the wallet and pulled out a small, worn photo. A little boy, no older than three, sitting on the shoulders of the recently deceased. Both smiling widely. She turned the picture around. 2017.

She returned the photo and placed the wallet inside an evidence bag.

"This whole place is a damn cesspool," Sam complained.

"Never thought I'd be at a crime scene worse than the Dahlia's, but here I am," Leah remarked. "What the hell is going on? I know this is Chicago; I know we have a high murder rate. But most of them are shootings or stabbings, not _this_."

"A war," Sam said. "They're starting another goddamn war."

"Like St. Patrick's?" Jacob asked.

"Something tells me it's going to be worse," Sam replied, pointedly not looking at his wife. Leah did have to compliment him in not making this as awkward as it could have been. "We already have several bodies lined up. _Known_ bodies. In such a short amount of time?" He shook his head. "Yeah, it's a war."

"Between whom?" Leah asked though she had a feeling she knew the answer to her question. "And why now?"

Sam shrugged. He aimlessly glanced around the room before resting his eyes back on Vincent. "You heard about Paul's little taskforce?"

"Initiative?"

"Same difference," Sam told Jacob. "So, you've heard," and then, after Leah and her partner nodded. "He asked you?"

"The both of us," Leah said. "And you?"

"Yeah..." Sam trailed off. Leah could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't telling her everything, and wasn't going to anytime soon. "Yeah. Let's look around more, shall we?"

"After you."

* * *

Leah ended up following her husband around while Jacob returned to Victim Number Two. They, with some CSI's, were heading to the other side of the building via the main hallway for some evidence collecting. Leah remained silent as the couple walked ahead of the others, were her focus on the walls of the large hallway. Streaks of blood and grim all over. The body of that young girl, Bree, still in her mind…

She was snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of her husband's booming voice.

"Call!"

"Not Detective Call?" Leah asked.

"He's not a detective," Sam reminded Leah. "Yet."

"That's a glowing endorsement coming from you," Leah said, watching Embry rush to them from the opposite direction. "So, what happened to your actual partner?"

"Apparently, he gets high off his supply…" Sam said, being his usual evasive self. "Embry's going to be with me for quite some time."

Leah was honestly shocked. "Wow, that bad?"

"That bad," Sam said before falling into an awkward bout of silence with was wife, only to quietly speak again at the end of the hallway. "Leah, I really am sorry."

Leah didn't know what to say. She didn't know just exactly what he was apologizing for or if he was really sincere about it. It had caught her so far off guard that she almost tripped over a flat, rusted blade on the ground.

"Me, too."

There was nothing else she could say without yelling.

* * *

A few minutes later, Leah found herself standing next to her husband before some destroyed, burnt furniture. She didn't know why both she and Sam were so concerned about the debris. Nothing about it showed significance, not until the forensics unit got their hands on it—They were both silent with only the background noise reminding them that they were at a multiple-homicide crime scene; it was here where they both stood near each other for the first time in a week. The first time without the yelling and the glares in over a month and a half.

"Why didn't you call the cops?" Leah quietly asked. She didn't want to bring it up, but that night was still playing fresh in the back of her mind.

Sam loudly cleared his throat. "On who?"

"On me. You had every right to."

Sam didn't say anything. Instead, he bent down to examine the rubble. Nothing but burnt cloth and wood. _Newly burnt_. He stood back up and sighed. "Gotta see if that was like that before or after the killings—" he cleared his throat again. "It wouldn't have been fair to you," he muttered. "I know I fucked up. I know I fucked up bad."

Leah looked the other way. From her vantage point, she could see Embry following Eric around, scribbling furiously into his notepad. "Understatement." She turned her attention back to the rubble. "I wanted to kill you. Probably would have if I didn't consider the consequences."

Sam made a sound and took a step back, eyes following the burn pattern up the dirty gray wall. "It was burned here," he remarked, reaching out to touch the scorch marks. "I'm glad you didn't."

Leah frowned. "I don't know if I am..."

It was then when she realized that this was most likely the most honest conversation she had with her husband in months.

Sam made another sound, shoved his hands into his pocket, and sighed. "I deserve that."

"Yes, you do," Leah said with finality. At least, Sam wasn't bullshitting with her right now. It wasn't another apology—she wasn't sure if she wanted one because it wouldn't be enough. Nothing would be enough except a time machine. "Are you coming to the wedding? It's only a few days away."

Sam rolled his shoulders. "It would be best to stay behind. Anyway, I was only coming as your plus one."

"Good," Leah said.

Good didn't explain how _good_ Sam's decision was.

A major crime scene wasn't the place to discuss marital strife. But on the other hand, maybe it was. Because this was a crime scene, the police were expected to behave in a particular manner. No shouting. No drama. The occasional expletive was unofficially allowed, but everyone was to be professional.

This was what the strained couple needed: a professional environment, located next to a small doorless closet in front of some rubbish, away from most.

Leah dug her hands into her wool coat pockets and sighed. It was now or never. Who knew when the next chance would arise? Who knew when she would see or hear from her husband again in person?

"I want a divorce," she said.

It was short and sweet without any room for ambiguity. Quick enough not to second-guess her discussion. She had laid it out: a divorce. The dissolution of marriage. Seven years of being united under the law, seemingly all of nothing. Divorce, it was like death, some would say. Jacob _had_ said.

Leah patiently waited for a response.

Sam was most likely taken-aback. Leah got it; she hadn't mentioned anything about their relationship since the dropping of the bombshell. It hadn't been intentional; Leah had always believed that she would have made a quick, concrete decision after learning about such a betrayal. But she had been so blind-sided about the whole thing. She hadn't, and still didn't, know how to react in other ways besides expressing her anger (and waving a loaded gun).

It felt like years had passed before Sam vocally reacted to anything. His expression might have remained stone-faced, but Leah knew her husband. His stance was stiff. His breathing was short. "Why?"

Leah blinked, incredulous by the question. Why? _Why_? He had no reason to ask a question he already knew the answer to. "Why not?"

"Leah—"

"It's for the best," Leah interjected. "I know that, and deep inside, you know that too. This isn't going to last, so why bother? It is what it is."

Sam made a noise, a grunt more than anything, but Leah recognized that sound. It was a reluctant agreement. "We have to wait," he eventually said; his gaze was locked on the rubble.

"What is there to wait for?"

"Until the end of the year," Sam replied, glancing at his confused wife. "Just wait, and I'll give you your divorce."

Leah brought her hand to her chest; stunned. " _My_ _divorce_?"

Sam wasn't being fair. This wasn't just _her_ divorce; it was theirs. But she didn't put it a fight; it almost wouldn't be worth it. So, she let the comment go. "We have no reason to wait," she pressed on. "Six months, at the earliest so we can get a divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences."

"Just wait another three months. It's not a long time."

Leah snorted. So instead of September, Sam wanted the end of December; she couldn't make this shit up. By the time they even get to court, Emily's child might already be born. "Why?"

"Just... _please_." Sam cleared his throat. "And I won't contest a damn thing."

That was a plea. Sam had wanted to hide it in his voice, but that was a plea.

"What is there to contest?" Leak asked, glancing to her left to make sure that no one was looking for or at them. This conversation had to end soon so that the detectives could return to the job the taxpayers expected them to do. "You've made your decision, and now, I've made mine."

"I didn't make a decision."

"You did three years ago," Leah said, giving her husband one last look before walking away.

* * *

Leah bumped into Embry Call a few minutes after. She had met the cop a few times on the job, and a few times off. He was a good guy. A good cop and she could see why Jacob wanted to have the man under his wing. And he wasn't as stiff or bull-headed as some of the other cops she had been around.

"Is your brother still thinking about joining the force?"

Leah sighed at Embry's question. "Yes."

"You don't sound too happy about it," Embry remarked before apologizing to a cop he had bumped into. He and Leah were now heading back to the large open room where the bodies were.

It had always amazed Leah how quickly Seth could make friends. He had more friends on the force than she had. Her brother consistently hung out with Jared, shared some beers with Embry, and occasionally played Madden with Jacob. Paul basically declared that Seth would join his unit the moment he graduated from the academy.

"Well, it's probably because we're standing in the middle of a crime scene," Leah pointed out, and then, "I don't know... he wants to follow in my dad's footsteps—"

"And yours," Embry quickly added.

"And probably mine," Leah corrected, though a bit doubtful about her influence on her little brother. "I guess."

"You don't think he can handle the job?"

"It's not that," Leah insisted. Seth was a strong guy, but his heart was just too damn big. "He's just... _Seth_. He should be around bakeries or babies or some cute shit like that. Not around us."

"Hey, we're all not that bad..."

"Oh, come on, I don't even think I've ever heard the guy curse. No fuck. Not shit. No asshole..."

A cop that didn't use profanity? Was that possible? In Leah's mind, based on her experience, hell no.

"I'll think he'll be fine," Embry said, quietly laughing. There wasn't much laughter to be had in a place like an abandoned slaughterhouse. He stopped and faced the detective. "He'll be fine."

"For your sake, he better be."

"Wait—why are you threatening _me_?"

Leah rolled her eyes before walking on. "Since when you're a detective?" she later asked

"Since two hours ago," Embry said. "Sam's partner's in some deep shit, so he's gonna be out of commission for some time." He took one step forward and ran his hands along the wall. "The capt thought I should tag along. You know how it is… we're pretty stretched thin."

Leah's eyes fixated on the other cop's hands. "How do you like it so far?"

"Well, I wish I didn't have to deal with _this_ on my first unofficial day, but I guess it's all good. At least, Sam knows his stuff. I can learn something from..." He trailed off as his hands still. He then sent Leah an apologetic look. "Sorry."

It didn't take long for Leah to realize just what Embry had been referring to. She rolled her eyes in response. "Goodness, Embry, I'm not a goddamn child."

"I know. I just—sorry. I mean—sorry," Embry sputtered. "Isn't it weird working with him?"

Leah frowned. "I'm not working _with_ him. Jacob's my partner."

"Ah, right. Point."

"It's good that you're shadowing Sam," Leah carried on. It was an interesting statement, giving her current relationship with her husband. But this was a job. "He's a terrific detective."

"Yeah..." Embry stopped in the middle of the hallway, turned around, and stared at the walls.

"So, _Mr. Detective_ ," Leah said, "Any updates on the missing bodies?"

Embry groaned. "Official or unofficial?"

"The latter."

"Tanya took them."

It seemed that Tanya was a suspect of numerous crimes.

Leah made a note to ask Riley about this in the future.

And about Bree.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, did some snooping around and caught her scent—" Embry stopped, gulped and began to speed up his stride. "Found evidence that she was there."

Leah caught the slip-up but didn't speak on it. "What did Sam say?"

"We can't confirm anything without hard evidence... which we don't have."

"Any ideas why Tanya would do that?" She asked. "Isn't she related to them? She could've just claimed them."

"Maybe she didn't want to be bothered since they are, you know, vampires."

"Bella knows about them."

"Well, the public doesn't," Embry reminded Leah. "And it's probably wise to keep it that way. Autopsies are public documents."

"I know."

"Well, yeah..." Embry trailed off. "That's why she took them. That's probably why Bella's new vamp-friend wants to stop the autopsy."

"Jessica was a human, though."

"Jessica was a human that died from a _bite_."

"Can't Bella just claim that it was poison?"

"She could," Embry shrugged. "I mean, it _is_ poison, but you know people are gonna ask questions."

"Ah, right."

"Got a suspect on the Dahlia case?"

Leah grimaced. "Prime one's dead."

"Holy shit, that _sucks_."

"No shit," Leah grumbled, rolling her eyes, and, "But I'm not trying to tell the captain that. This is a high-profile case."

"Yeah, I get it. Just don't be surprised if the feds come knocking. Word on the street is that they're eyeing these strings of murders. _Hard_."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Don't mention it." Embry's attention remained to the wall in front of him; he was frowning, studying it. He eventually laid a flat hand on it, raised an eyebrow, balled his hand into a fist and began knocking. Hollow. He knocked again, but in an area about a foot away. Solid.

"What's up with you and _this wall_?" Leah started, trying to lighten up the mood. The vibe emitting from Embry suddenly was unusual, full of stress, irritation, and forlorn. Embry was usually the light-heartened one.

"There's something behind it," Embry said, and then, "Yo, Martin!"

"What, Call?" Martin, another cop, called from the opposite side of the hallway.

"Let's open up this wall."

* * *

She wished Embry hadn't said anything.

She wished he had only seen the wall as just that: a wall. With nothing behind it but stone, wood and outdated, rotten insolation.

The selfish side of her wished he wasn't so damn inquisitive. Who thought about checking the walls anyway? As far as everyone had been concerned, all attention should be directed to the front, open room. Where the bodies of Victims One through Three had been discovered.

Not this.

Leah had to make every effort not to vomit. She didn't want to make a scene in front of everyone. _Oh, did you hear about Uley? Yeah, the bitter one. She's a homicide detective but couldn't handle the sight of some more bodies..._

But maybe that was just her pride and anxiety rearing their ugly heads again. Because she soon as she balanced her stance, holding out a hand to the wall, and looked around; she realized that everyone was in the same boat as her. Some even decided to run out of the slaughterhouse and into the sub-zero air—Leah couldn't blame them. She would have been following right behind them if she hadn't knocked some "sense" into her mind.

She was a homicide detective. She was supposed to be uncomfortable; her job was inherently uncomfortable. Not full of flowers and peace; she had known this entering into the academy, and she knew this now. She had been trained to face the darkness that city had unfortunately offered—

But this made no damn sense.

It had all started with Embry ordering for the wall to be taken apart for reasons he never explained. Not that he needed to. The sight was the very definition of _res ipsa loquitur_ : two rows of bodies, lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, all wrapped in clear plastic bags with a cord tied around the necks. Some with blood spatter; some without.

All presumably dead.

How did he know?

Ah, there it was.

The nausea was making a comeback.

* * *

Sam eventually came over.

His reaction came in a string of curses as he maneuvered through the increasingly growing crowd to get a better look of yet another high-profile, extremely complicated and different homicide case. When he confronted the first couple of bodies, he leaned forward, studied them for a bit and, " _Fuck me_."

A little voice in the back of Leah's mind quietly replied with, " _Yeah, fuck you_ ," but Leah soon shook away the thought. She had spent enough time thinking about her issues with the other detective.

"All dead," Leah told her husband instead, though perhaps unhelpfully. It would have shocked the world if one of the victims were found to be alive. There was so much blood, and with the bag tied around the victims, any initial survivor all would've suffocated anyway.

"Thirteen," Embry announced to his partner, stumbling back inside the hallway. His eyes were wide and wild as he fished out for his phone. He stopped a few feet from his partner. "That's what I counted."

Leah had to give credit when credit was due. Sam was taking in the scene pretty well. Considering, well, everything. He was disturbed, only a psycho wouldn't have been, but was ready to take charge. He ordered Embry to compose himself (Leah really felt for the cop) and got some of the CSI's and other cops to enter the hallway. Once done, he turned his wife, who was still leaning against the wall, concerned.

Leah hadn't seen that look in a while.

"You alright?"

Leah loudly swallowed. She could do this. She was a goddamn seasoned detective for heaven's sake. She nodded against, stood up tall, and straightened up her jacket. "I'm fine."

Sam scanned his wife; he wasn't convinced but, in the end, he took her word for it. "Get your partner in here."

Leah nodded again.

Jacob wasn't too far from the commotion, but he wasn't close enough to see the hallway. The slaughterhouse was huge. She considered just calling the man, but she figured speaking to him face to face would get the point across more— plus, it was a good reason to be away from the hallway even it was for only a few minutes.

With hand over her mouth once again, Leah quickly maneuvered through the growing crowd of law enforcement and CSI's. She caught sight of Embry pacing around at the north side of the hallway with a phone glued to his hands, "This is Officer Embry Call, I'm reporting a 310..."

He was asking for the hazmat team.

When she finally reached her partner, he was still standing next to Eric, studying the body of Victim Number Two: Bree. Eric soon stood up and started taking his necessary photos until he abruptly stopped upon noticing numerous people running towards the direction of the hallway frantically while Leah was coming right from it with a grim look on her face.

Jacob turned around. "Leah—?"

"You both need to come," Leah said. " _Now_."

* * *

"How many?"

"Thirteen."

"All dead?"

"All dead."

"All found behind the walls?"

"Embry somehow suspected it."

Jacob ran a hand down his face and groaned. "There goes my night," he mumbled. "Actually, this explained a lot."

"About what?"

"The smell from earlier."

Leah slightly nodded. Right. The scent that only he could pick up, but not her. "Wouldn't it have been stronger?"

Jacob shook his head before moving aside to let another cop pass through. "The plastic helped."

Eric headed over to the hallway a couple of minutes after Jacob did with a couple of medics in tow. He walked inside, looked around, glanced back at the detectives, wide-eyed, turned back around and groaned, running a hand down his face. " _Holy—_ I need a better job."

"Oh, come on," Jacob called out, trying to lighten the mood before he headed outside to catch a better cell signal. He had _plenty_ of people to call. "Isn't this a coroner's wet dream?"

Leah rolled her eyes.

"Hahaha, screw you, Black," Eric spat, giving the lowly chuckling detective the finger. Once Jacob left to get more reinforcements, he motioned Leah inside. "This shit blows."

"Don't you know it," Leah mumbled. She stopped in her tracks to check the surroundings. She still couldn't believe her eyes. _Bodies_ , just lined up between the wood slabs. One by one.

"Hey, Detective—"

"Leah."

"Leah," Eric corrected, and then, "Ever seen Sicario?"

Leah shifted her attention from one of the bodies—a young man, Asian, short black hair with wide, _stilled_ , blood-shot eyes— to the coroner, raising her eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"The movie: Sicario," Eric repeated, and then, "Terrific movie. I highly recommend it and the sequel as well. Anyway, in the beginning, a bunch of agents found bodies trapped within the walls. Just like them." He motioned the bodies around them. "Exactly like them."

"Who did it?" Leah asked.

"The cartels," Eric said with a shrug. "I dunno, but this, right here, reminded me of that movie. And not in a good way. Don't think I'll ever see that again. Not ever this."

Leah wouldn't blame him. She had personally never seen the movie; those movies were for Sam and Paul. "These cartels... they don't necessarily have to be all human, right?"

Eric slowly turned to the detective and raised a curious, eyebrow. He seemed a bit taken aback by the remark. "No..." he gulped. "I mean, from what I hear, those gangs usually aren't in the drug business. Apparently, it's too messy." He snorted. "Ain't that ironic? I guess I can't blame them. Who wants to deal with the DEA on a consistent basis?"

"Who wants to deal with the FBI _or_ the ATF?" Leah countered as she checked out another body—a black man, face virtually unrecognizable, behind the blood spatter and the body bag.

Eric nodded. "Touché," and then aimlessly looked around before finally resting his eyes on the detective. "Do you think it's happening again?" he quietly asked. "St. Patrick's?"

Leah shrugged. _St. Patricks' Day Massacre_. Chicago's St. Valentine's Day Massacre of the twenty-first century. Literally the second to worst day for her on the job (the first being the day she got shot in the shoulder by a goddamn intoxicated bouncer). People were still reeling from that day today.

"I sure hope not," Leah whispered. "I sure hope not."

* * *

Twenty minutes had passed when Jacob pulled Leah aside to a corner at the left-wing of the warehouse. It was vacant save for a couple of mice scrambling away. "This isn't our kind of case," he whispered. "I mean, sure it's connected to us, but..."

Leah nodded in understanding. "We're not a gang squad."

"No, we're not," Jacob said, and then, "I'm sending this case to Paul. He's gonna try to shove his Glock up my ass, but this is under his jurisdiction."

"This is just a gang hit," Leah reasoned. "Have the other squad deal with it."

"This is a gang hit involving ultra-violets, vampires, literal trolls and children of the moon," Jacob reminded her. "This is Paul's case," and with that, he pulled out his work phone, quickly dialed a number and held it to his ear. "Yo, Paul— Fine. _Captain Lahote_." He rolled his eyes. "You may want to send some of your guys here. It's a 354a."

 _354a_ —Leah dropped her gaze. That was a code she never wanted to hear. That was the code designated for manners that not even the most ambitious of cops could handle. By tomorrow, the feds were going to visit Paul to "offer" their assistance, and the captain wasn't going to be happy.

"Yes, I know you can't stand the feds, but unless you wanna deal with this shit all by yourself..." Jacob stopped and rolled his eyes again as he allowed Paul to speak. " _I know_. Jesus, Paul. Just send some guys over _and then_ ask them if they want to solve it themselves..." His eyes darted around the room. "Sixteen. Three on the ground—mutilated up by most likely the C.O.M. The rest inside the walls—Yeah, _inside the walls_. Wrapped in plastic body bags with an ultra-violet lodged in their skulls— _Yes_ , that's why I'm telling you to come down here, and make sure the media doesn't hear about this... Yeah, see you soon."

"ETA?" Leah asked once Jacob pocketed his phone.

"Thirty minutes."

* * *

When Paul and his team entered the slaughterhouse forty-five minutes later, he cursed the detectives, including Sam and Embry, to Hell and promised never to speak to them again.

Sam gave the captain a flat look before heading back to work.

Jacob said Paul was only being dramatic.

Embry looked like he was about to cry.

After consoling Embry and promising him that Paul, in fact, did not hate him, Jacob demanded Paul to get his act together so they could all approach this case the _right_ way.

In the end, Paul reluctantly agreed to take the case.

In Leah's humble and professional opinion, the captain didn't have any other choice.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

* * *

Sixteen. That was the total number of victims found inside the slaughterhouse. Three found on the ground—two men, both humans, and a teenage girl. A newborn, Jacob had claimed. The rest were found inside the walls, and only three were humans.

Hours had passed, but Leah could still smell the blood; the taste of vomit was still permeated despite the many times the detective had brushing her teeth and gargled around the Listerine. The hardened side of her told her to get over it. It was sixteen bodies, not sixty. All of the victims were probably involved some in illegal business and suffered for it—they had lived by the sword, and now they had died by it.

But Bree… that girl. A teenager with an impeccable record. The only minor in the group of victims. She didn't deserve that fate.

"You knew her," Leah told Riley later that morning. Her tone didn't leave the vampire any room for an argument. It would have been a complete waste of time anyway, giving that Leah had a copy of the photo from Bree's wallet inside her coat pocket.

She handed Riley the photo.

The man examined it with a pained expression. "Victoria recruited her not long after me," he eventually admitted.

Leah nodded stiffly. She was relieved that the man had seen the light and decided to cooperate without much of a fight. Shoving both hands into her coat pocket, she shivered, cursing at the cold. It was March, but it seemed that spring was so far away.

They were both standing outside, only feet apart, facing the Lake Michigan from the Northside, water still relatively icy from the winter that refused to relent. Leah was without Jacob this morning; he was currently in Paul's precinct, apparently trying to talk the combative captain off the ledge. The man had a lot on his hands, and this was only one case. It was because of this that Leah had promised to give some help. After all, like Sam had said, there was a connection to the Dahlia murder; she didn't know what it was.

"What would Victoria want with a teenager?"

"She was building an army, mostly made of newborns. Age wasn't an issue," Riley explained, still staring at the photo. "We… Laurent didn't think she was ready to see any action, so he talked Victoria into giving Bree mundane jobs. Like run errands or do secretary work. Simple stuff." His eyebrows drew together. "I don't understand why she was in the stockyards."

"She didn't frequent there?"

Riley shook his head.

"Who's Laurent?"

"Second-in-command," Riley said, and then through gritted teeth, crushing the photo in his hand. " _Fuck_ , I can't believe this shit."

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" Leah asked. This wasn't her case; she knew that, but she figured Paul was going to need some help. And if anyone complained, Sam had mentioned that there might be a connection to the Dahlia murder—so far, all Leah had was that Riley who had seen Jessica inside Victoria's territory was close with Bree. It certainly wasn't much.

"No," Riley said. "I heard about this in the early morning. Laurent was raging about it earlier, but he was speaking in Creole—he's from Haiti. Anyway, I got some words... a botched deal. Something about an ambush."

"From?"

"I honestly don't know," Riley whispered. "The Cullen's would never work with the Children of the Moon. They wouldn't even work with shapeshifters."

Leah sighed, recalling Jacob and Paul telling her such. "So, I've heard…"

"At the Office of the Medical Examiner," Leah replied. "She's a minor, and you're not a close relative. There's nothing you can do."

Riley's expression was one of disappointment. "Make sure she's buried... the right way?"

"You two were close?"

"I had a little sister once," Riley said, aimlessly staring at a distance. "Died in a car accident some years back. Bree reminded me of her."

Leah watched Riley. She could feel his grief rolling off of him, and right then and there, she realized that she couldn't bring herself to deny Riley's request. It was a simple one without any ulterior motives.

"I'll make sure she has a marked grave."

"Thank you."

* * *

Leah had intended to take a couple of days off. After all, it was the Thursday before her cousin's Saturday wedding. She had a flight to Washington the day before. But today was also a day after discovering the murders at the slaughterhouse and with the Dahlia case up in the air, Leah couldn't bring herself to have a four-day weekend. (Jacob hadn't agreed which led to their first true argument. Leah had eventually won.)

That morning, the detectives found themselves back inside the Office of the Medical Examiner, at the request of both Dr. Swan and Dr. Yorkie. After exchanging the usual pleasantries and hot cups of coffee (extra shots of espresso for the doctors), they went straight to business.

"So, yesterday morning was obviously a shit-show," Bella started, taking a sip of her coffee as she approached her desk. Eric had run off a few minutes early to get some last-minute breakfast, a move that would usually irk Bella, but given what the man had gone through the past couple of days, she declared that she would let it go. "Eric and I are going to earn at least forty hours of OT this pay period. Good for our bank accounts, bad for this city."

"Does this mean Cook County's gonna give you more people to dissect the dead?" Jacob asked.

"Hah!" Bella gave the detective an incredulous look and snorted. "That'll be the day. It's fine. I've completely accepted the fact that I'm not going to have anything resembling a social life for the next year. I think Eric's reaching that point too."

"That's unfortunate," Leah remarked, wondering if she and Jacob were in the same boat. Considering that the detectives still hadn't brought in a viable suspect in the Dahlia case, it was most likely the case.

"Well, welcome to Cook County, I guess," Bella said with a shrug, and then, "Okay, enough complaining about my lack of a life. There is a reason why I brought you both here. Now, I know the Slaughterhouse case is not technically yours, but giving that you were both at the scene and therefore having knowledge about it, I figure I can ask you a question or two."

"Have you spoken to Paul?" Leah asked, glancing at her partner.

"Yeah, I'm avoiding him like the plague," Bella said. "He's not in the happiest mood right now. But I swear you won't be here long." After having another sip of her drink, Bella picked up two copies of the files and handed them to the detectives. "In your hands are the reports of all of the victims. We have classified each John and Jane Doe, using every identifiable trait possible save for species."

"Wise move," Jacob replied, sifting through the pages. It was a standard report that included the usual information: pictures of the victim, vivid descriptions of the body and suggested causes of death.

Leah had done the same and stopped at the fourth victim. She raised an eyebrow when something caught her eye. "Silver bullet?"

Jacob froze.

"Yes," Bella affirmed. "Four were found with pure silver bullets inside the plastic. Two with the bullets lodged into their frontal lobe. As previously assumed, everyone was killed execution-style. Nine were shot with ultra-violets. The rest with a standard .22."

"So, the humans were killed with a 22," Leah concluded. "You weren't able to ID any of them?"

"The only ones we were able to ID were the ones found on the floor," Bella said, frustrated. "Everyone in the bags? Nothing. We couldn't get a print."

"Shaved off?" Jacob suggested.

"There were no fingers or toes," Bella clarified, grimacing. "You wouldn't have noticed them with the bodies being in the walls. The wrists were tied behind their backs. Their feet were wrapped… interestingly enough to stop the bleeding."

"So, the perps weren't dumbasses," Jacob concluded. "But what I don't understand is if the killers didn't want the victims to be ID'd, why keep them?"

"They're sending a message to some who aren't the authorities," Leah said. "But we were able to ID the three mutilated ones…"

"Oh, they were all killed after the Doe's," Bella said. "A few hours after, in a matter of fact."

By?"

"Eric said something about children of the moon, but given that I can't really mention that on paper, I'm just going to say a pack of hungry, pissed-off hounds."

"I'm surprised you believed him," Jacob said.

"A couple of months ago, I would have laughed at him," Bella said, resigned, and then sighed. "But now, I don't know what to believe anymore."

Leah exactly knew what she meant.

She continued to skim through the rest of the report until she stopped at the second to last person, showing her something she had never dreamed of seeing before. A view disturbing in other ways than its gore. She pulled all of the pages back and held up her report, presenting it to Bella. "What the hell is this?'

Jacob leaned over to take a peek and froze.

Bella didn't have to check the page to know just precisely what Leah was referring to. She took another sip, carefully placed the cup on her desk, shoved her hands into her lab coat, and said, strained. " _That_ , Detective Uley, is the reason why I wanted to see you guys."

 _That_ was a picture a Joe Doe Number 11. Caucasian male, couldn't have been more than twenty-six, lying across the coroner's table in the nude. Well, what was supposed to have been a man. But it was mixed with a wolf—an actual werewolf. Half man, half wolf—except that he was supposed be a shapeshifter.

"Was he shot mid-transformation?" Leah carefully asked. Jacob had sort of explained the whole transitioning process from a grown adult to a giant wolf. From her understanding, the shift took _seconds_. The fact that someone got a shot in _during_ the shift was incredible.

"Yes."

* * *

" _Excuse me_?"

Leah let Jacob do most of the talking. It had been about an hour since the detectives had left the Office of the Medical Examiner, and she still hadn't received the whole story from Jacob. She leaned back against her seat and narrowed her attention on Paul as he skimmed through a copy of Bella's report. Based on the large bags under his eyes, Paul hadn't slept for the past couple of days.

Not that Leah could blame him. _It's hard to sleep when the superintendent's foot is far up your ass,_ Leah could imagine Paul saying.

"Three of the victims were shapeshifters," Jacob explained again. More carefully. More slowly. "All shot at point-blank range with silver bullets. All died from it. One passed while transforming."

Paul was practically gaping at Jacob, and Leah couldn't fathom why. All of the victims had been shot in the back of their heads; surviving such a shot was a long-shot.

"Are you sure they're pure silver?"

"Bella had ballistics check it out. One hundred percent," Jacob said. "One of the guys even made a joke about selling them to off his mortgage; they were so goddamn pure."

Paul held up the photo of the mysterious victim up to the light and examined it through squinted eyes. "And it killed a guy..."

"In-mid transformation."

Leah had to ask. "Is... that impossible?"

"It shouldn't have killed him," Paul said, staring at the photo of the victim. "Incapacitate him, sure, but kill him? Especially in the middle of shifting?" He shook his head. "That doesn't add up..."

"Even though he was shot execution-style?" Leah asked, and then, "Look, I don't know much about shapeshifter biology, but I saw how Jacob reacted when Riley shot him in the arm," she quickly glanced at her partner, and then, "It's not outside the realm of possibility—"

"Shapeshifters, _as much as I hate to admit it_ , share some, uh, characteristics with vampires," Paul said. "It takes a lot to kill us. Why do you think it's taken so long to make UV's or... in this case, pure silver bullets laced with fuck-knows-what..."

Leah made every effort not to react to Paul's _subtle_ admission. She wondered if he had even noticed his usage of " _us_ ". When she had first met Jacob, he had chosen his words carefully when speaking about his species. Embry attempted to do the same. Paul seemed to be more comfortable talking about it... He must have assumed that she already knew. Three, Leah counted so far, three shapeshifters.

 _Goodness gracious_.

If Jacob was aware of Paul's slip up, he didn't show it.

"Well, _shit_ ," Paul said, bringing the picture down. "First we have the UV's, and now we have bullets designated for shapeshifters. These bullets could not be only be made out of silver…"

"That's what I'm thinking," Jacob said. "But ballistics insisted that it's pure with no oddities or additives. But we're not the Children of the Moon, and that man wasn't either."

Leah looked between the two men. Ah, it seemed that Paul wasn't the only one slipping; Jacob had given her all the confirmation she needed to _understand_ about Paul. Paul and Jacob—both shapeshifters and both were comfortable about that fact around her. A human. But she wouldn't mention anything about that; she had to let them start the conversation. It was only fair—she listened quietly as the men went back and forth about "bullet chemistry" and "illegal arms."

"I'll have one of my connections at the ATF check the bullets out," Paul finally said.

"Are you sure your chief won't shove _his_ foot up your ass?" Jacob asked.

Paul brushed aside the detective's concern. "Nah, me and him go way back. He's a ballistics nerd; he'll cream in his pants at the sight of this bullet. Hell, he may even do it pro-bono."

Jacob shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"Now, I was told that Sam had asked you both to come to the crime scene a possible connection to the Dahlia case," Paul started. "Did you find anything?"

"Only that Riley, who is sort-of helping us on the Dahlia case, knew the teenage victim," Leah said. "They worked together."

Paul nodded. "Doing what?"

"Victoria was building a newborn army," Jacob said, rolling his eyes. "Apparently."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Paul said, turning the pages to the victims' report. "I had my guys run reports on the shredded victims since they have been on the only ones identified. Victim Number One. Patrick Chin had Jessica's name and phone number in his wallet."

"Of course," Jacob mumbled.

Leah leaned forward. "What was he? I mean, what's his history."

"Mr. Chin from Cicero, dead at 35. His rap sheet was one hundred pages full of possession charges. Was currently on probation for making a plea on an illegal firearm charge."

"Only probation?" Jacob asked.

"He had a damn good lawyer," Paul said, turning another page. "Who conveniently disappeared last year..."

Jacob and Leah exchanged looks.

"Should we investigate—"

"No need," Paul insisted. "The feds are already looking into that case. Anyway, this Patrick worked with the James Gang for years. He was involved in the blood business, getting vials of blood from vampire-enthusiasts."

"Victoria didn't think about turning him?" Leah asked. "I mean, he seemed useful."

"According to Riley, she was going to kill him off," Paul said. "Yeah, I talked to the fool. But I don't think Chin knew that... and I don't think Victoria staged this."

"It's too messy."

"Exactly," Paul said, nodding. "I know this isn't much, but maybe Sam was onto something about the connection between the Slaughterhouse and the Dahlia?"

"Is this your attempt to drag us into the case?" Jacob half-joked.

"Is it working?"

Leah couldn't tell if Paul was joking or not.

* * *

Leah had a feeling that she and Jacob would be dragged into the Slaughterhouse case eventually. It was just a matter of time. Paul had seemed adamant about telling the partners all of the gruesome details. Their captain had mentioned it a couple of times. Bella and Eric kept them up to date about any of the autopsy findings—Leah wanted to remind everyone that she and Jacob still had a high-profile case in their hands that was slowly getting replaced by the Slaughterhouse murders.

The press was still talking about the Dahlia case, but instead of taking up half of the newspaper's front page or being a major headline on online publications, it had been reduced to an article or blurb on the side. But the captain, the chief, and the superintendent still wanted it solved, and damn it, that was what Leah and Jacob were going to do.

And because of this, Leah knew that the wedding in Washington would be the closest thing to a vacation that she would be taking until, at the earliest, Christmas-time. _If_ nothing else happened.

That was a major "If".

"I know your job is challenging and time-consuming, but darling, you need to make some time for yourself," Sue would tell her daughter that following Saturday as they both prepared for the family wedding. "Take a weekend vacation. Have a spa day—"

"I'm going with Aisha to King Spa in Niles next weekend," Leah pointed out, straightening her stance so that her mother could zip up the back of her black and blue lace cocktail dress. She studied her reflection through the floor mirror in front of her, wondering if she could put on a pair of tights or not. Washington, like Chicago, was still cold during March.

She decided to leave it alone; she liked her way her long-toned legs looked under the knee-length dress. That was one of the upsides of being a detective in a busy unit, chasing criminals on a whim did wonders to her calves. She nodded in approval.

"I'm glad Sam had decided not to come," Sue said a few moments later, standing with her daughter in front of the bathroom sink, both putting on their make-up. "That's probably the smartest thing that man's done all year. I can't imagine him sitting at the same table as Emily and us."

Leah tried not to groan. Of course, her mother had to talk about Sam. She had been itching to talk about that man ever since the pair (and Seth) and walked into O'Hare Airport to catch the flight to Seattle. Thankfully, Sue had noticed how exhausted her daughter had been and held back any Sam-related conversation until, apparently, now.

"Emily is still going to be there."

"Well, I suppose glaring at one person is better than two." Sue stopped to be on some blush. "Anyway, Emily's with child. I highly doubt she would do anything that could jeopardize her pregnancy…"

Leah gave her mother the side-eye and frowned. "I'd never—"

"Goodness, Leah, I wasn't talking about _you_ ," Sue said, and then tisked, "I was walking about Emily making a fool out of herself after a couple of shots of tequila. You know she's a lightweight, despite what she wants to believe," she finished, rolling her eyes.

"Many people can't handle tequila—"

"Leah, can you please stop defending that woman?"

Leah didn't feel like she was defending her cousin. She just didn't want to talk about her, but she was her mother's daughter. They shared the same habit of verbally expressing their frustration and bitterness. "Sorry." She shrugged. "I'm used to playing Devil's advocate. It's part of my job."

"Well, you're not working today, so enough for that," Sue said before applying her lipstick. "Speaking of your job…"

Leah didn't like the sound of her mother's tone. "Mom…"

"I just wanted to know how your partner's doing," Sue said, giving her daughter a knowing look. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"He's fine."

"Quick response, no?"

" _He's fine_."

"Okay, fine." Sue huffed, and then, "You think this one will last?"

Leah put down her eyeshadow and reached for her eyeliner. She supposed her mother had every right to ask that question; her daughter's track record with partners wasn't the greatest. And that was being kind. "He hasn't called me a raging bitch yet, so I think this partnership can last another few months."

"You're far from a raging bitch," Sue said. "You know some people can't handle those with strong personalities. Especially coming from a woman." She blinked. "Another few months? Setting yourself up for failure already?'

"I'm being realistic."

"You're being hard on yourself," Sue told her daughter. "You always have been. Even with Sam. Speaking for that man, I hope you're not planning on staying with him."

Leah shook her head. "I told him I wanted a divorce."

"And?"

"He's down."

Sue raised an eyebrow. "And he didn't put up a fight?"

"I didn't give him room to," Leah said. "If he had just cheated, I think I may have given him another chance. Go to some counseling or whatever. I'm sure my trust would be thrown out the window, but I guess things happen… but now?" She shook her head. "It's that pregnancy."

"I don't understand why people can't just invest in birth control," Sue said, rolling her eyes. "Like what's wrong with a condom?"

Leah couldn't help but chuckle. Her mother could be a riot sometimes. "Condoms aren't even fool-proof."

"But common sense is," Sue contended. "But I suppose he's just a man. You know how they can be. Only thinking with one head at a time."

"Aren't you being a little harsh?"

Sue raised another eyebrow. "Am I?"

Leah didn't give her mother an answer.

"So, if anyone asks, and you know they're going to," Sue started. "What's the story behind Sam's absence?"

"He has the flu," Leah said.

"Huh." Sue nodded. She seemed okay with the plan. "Have you told Seth about this?"

Leah dug into her makeup bag for her mascara. "I'm surprised you haven't."

"It's not my place."

Leah glanced at her mother. Like that had stopped Sue before. "I'll tell him eventually."

"Why _eventually_?"

Because Leah wanted to believe that she was only looking out for Seth's welfare. He had to start on a good foot; having a grudge against one of the most successful detectives in CPD would only hinder that. Seth was a sweet soul, but he could be fiercely protective when he wanted to (and to a fault. Just like his father).

Or maybe this was just another excuse to avoid yet another awkward conversation.

"I'll tell him eventually."

* * *

The wedding was uneventful, and Leah couldn't have been more relieved.

Uneventful was what she needed in her life. Uneventful was what she hadn't had since the new year, since finding out about Sam, since the Dahlia case and the subsequent string of murders. For about two days, she didn't have to worry about homicides, police-work, more vampire drama, or her marital issues. She just spent time with her family... and thankfully, Emily had steered clear of her. (And Sue, who was ready to speak her mind forcefully if Emily dared to step out of line).

Jacob and Paul had promised not to contact Leah about anything work-related unless it was a serious emergency, and they abode by it. By the time Leah returned to Chicago, she was well-relaxed, well-fed, and relatively stress-free.

Until late Sunday night when she received a text from Jacob that the feds were going to visit their precinct tomorrow at 10:00 am.

The feds, the _FBI_ , wanted to speak to them.

Back to life.

Back to reality.

In retrospect, Leah didn't think the meeting was a big deal. The police department and the FBI met with each other all the time; although they covered different jurisdictions, there were times when they needed to work together and share information. And the last time she checked, Leah hadn't violated any federal law.

It would be fine. But Jacob, being Jacob, was less than enthused about the meeting. According to him, it wasn't that he didn't _like_ the FBI. It was just that Jacob didn't trust them. He had discovered years ago that he would be perfectly content if someone assured him that he would never, ever have to interact with them ever again. For the rest of his natural life. And if possible, the afterlife.

"Jesus Christ, Jacob," Leah said, popping a mint into her mouth. She offered one to Jacob, who declined. "This is only a meeting, not an interrogation."

Jacob snorted as he drove his car into the parking space and turned off the engine. He took out the key and shoved it into his pocket. "Oh, it's going to turn into one, just you watch."

"You're being dramatic."

"I honestly don't give a shit."

Leah sighed as she unbuckled her seat belt. "At least, it's not the DEA," she reasoned as she followed Jacob out the car and towards the precinct. She didn't have anything personal against the agency, but they were known for giving people a hard time.

"I don't mind the DEA," Jacob insisted as he walked inside. He greeted some fellow officers as he headed to his captain's office where they were to meet the federal agents. "They don't bother me. Or spy on me."

"I think you're thinking of the NSA."

"Same difference."

Leah shook her head. "I'm sure they're only here to ask some preliminary questions about the Dahlia's case and maybe mention the Stockyards. It's big news," Leah assured her partner. "It happens all the time with major cases."

"Yeah, like I said, that's how it starts, and then the next thing you know, they're taking over our investigation. And it's not like we can say no. We would get in trouble for obstruction."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Damn it, Jacob, can you please put your dislike for them aside for the next thirty minutes?"

"Okay, fine."

"Thank you." Leah stopped short of the captain's office and turned around, eyeing her partner. "What's up with you and the Bureau, anyway?"

"It's complicated."

"Resorting to Facebook lingo, are we?"

"Shut up."

Leah lightly chuckled; she glad that she was about to make Jacob smile after he had been so grumpy during the entire ride to the precinct. "It will be fine, _Jakey_ , I promise."

" _Don't call me that_."

"Only if you stop throwing mini-tantrums like you're five," Leah taunted. She chuckled when her partner sent her a half-hearted glare. "Promise?"

"Okay, I'll try my—" Jacob stopped when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Leah watched Jacob as he stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at his phone with a deep frown. She could have sworn she even heard him growl. "What happened _now_?" she asked.

Jacob didn't immediately reply as he continued to read the message. He returned his phone to his front pocket and said in a grave voice, "Someone managed to get a damn TRO on the Dahlia's autopsy."

A TRO. A temporary restraining. One step below a full-fledged injunction.

 _On an autopsy for a high-profile murder victim?_

"What?" Leah nearly shouted. "Is that even allowed? I thought you couldn't interfere with a murder victim's autopsy? You know, for obvious reasons?"

"Bella just found out twenty minutes ago," Jacob told her, holding up his phone for Leah o see. "Banner, her boss, told her."

No wonder the feds were here; they must have received a tip that this wasn't a routine murder. Leah grumbled—well, this was just great. Not only did she and Jacob have to deal with vampires and the mobs; now, they had to worry about potential corruption as well.

"I can't believe this shit," Jacob spat.

* * *

"Detective Black and Detective Uley."

"Captain," Jacob acknowledged.

Leah greeted her boss and followed him towards the direction of the conference room, where she assumed the agents were. She occasionally stole glances at her partner to make sure he was okay. This wasn't the time for him to burst a vessel.

Much to Leah's annoyance, Jacob's sour mood had returned. "Do you have any idea what the feds want to talk about?" he asked the captain.

The captain shrugged as he continued walking. "Your investigation into the death of Jessica Stanley has captured some national attention. The feds have reasons to believe that she had some association with the Cullen's…and the string of murders."

Jacob and Leah shared a concerned look.

"Reasons? What reasons?" Jacob asked. "The investigation just started. We haven't discovered anything concrete about the Cullen's involvement. I mean, we have our suspicions, but…"

"You haven't, but they did." The captain stopped in front of the meeting room. "Paul's unit received some interesting information as well. They were the ones who called the FBI."

Leah and Jacob shared a look. Paul wasn't the type to call the feds over any little thing; he had his pride and reputation as a complete and total "badass" to protect. This must be big.

"Are they taking over our investigation?" Leah asked.

The captain sighed. "I honestly don't know, but I wouldn't worry about it. I'll make sure you'll be able to do your jobs."

"Did you hear the new update on the Denali murders?" Jacob asked. "Or the Dahlia case?"

The captain sighed. "Yeah, I did… I can't say I'm too surprised about the autopsy. Especially with the _Honorable_ Calvin Sorio presiding over the hearing. Do me a favor: don't mention the TRO unless the bureau does. Got it? Feel figure that shit out later."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"We understand that there has been a string of murders occurring in this city."

Jacob didn't want to answer any of the federal agents' questions but judging from the looks his captain had been sending him for the past couple of minutes; he realized that he didn't have a choice. "Welcome to Chicago."

Leah nudged Jacob's shin with her foot. She could tell that Agents Patterson and Cruz didn't find humor in Jacob's sarcastic comment. She knew he didn't like them, but they were still the feds. "What he means is that we completely agree with your sentiment. Being in this city, we're used to murders, but not like these."

"Yes, we've heard. That is why we are here," Patterson said, opening the file with all the updated information. "Let's talk about your investigation into the murder of Jessica Stanley. How is it going? Do you have any leads or suspects?"

"It's still ongoing, but some progress has certainly been made," Leah replied before Jacob could make another snarky remark.

The detectives weren't sure if they should mention the temporary injunction. During their drive to the precinct, they both agreed that if the agents didn't bring it up, they wouldn't either.

"Glad to hear that," Agent Patterson said. "Have you come across any information about Miss Stanley's association with a particular organization?"

"Not officially, Agent Patterson," Leah said, quickly glancing at Jacob. "We have some suspicions based on our conversation with the victim's acquaintances. Why do you ask?"

"We have reasons to believe that Miss Stanley was working for the Cullen and/or Denali family in some capacity."

The detectives shared a look; it appeared that their suspicions were founded after all. "Have you been keeping an eye on our investigation from the very beginning?" Jacob asked.

"No," Agent Cruz replied. "We were monitoring the situation along the Illinois/Wisconsin border when we received the news of the murder. We initially assumed that it is just a normal case, but then we heard about the death of Tanya Denali's relative. We all know that the Denali's and the Cullen's are very close."

 _Close wasn't even the half of it_ , Leah thought. Word on the street was that the families had plans to combine forces officially and now—Leah's eyes widened. It made sense. _Everything just made sense._

No wonder Paul wanted Jacob and Leah involved in his mess.

"I assume you are aware of the Cullen's and the Denali's plan to combine their organizations, Detective Black and Uley," Cruz said; he must have read Jacob's face during his revelation. "That is why we are here. And for the Volturi, who are most certainly not going to be happy about this move."

"We don't have enough evidence to make the Volturi a suspect," Leah admitted, though she knew that the group must have had something to with Sasha and her baby's murders. "At least, not for Jessica Stanley's murder."

"I'm sure you will soon," Patterson said. "We wanted to talk to you both about what's going on because chances are our investigations are going to cross paths. We won't be actively involved in your murder case, but we will definitely be keeping in touch."

* * *

The next morning, the detectives decided to pay an early visit to the man who might be more infuriated about the past couple of months' happenings than the infamous Paul Lahote, himself: Jason Jenks.

The Assistant District Attorney was one of the most fearless, senior members of the Cook County Justice System who had seen it all and seemingly heard it all. He had spent a couple of years butting heads with the infamous Honorable Calvin Sorio, a man who presided over all of the criminal trials even though, as rumors had it, he was a criminal himself.

His decisions functioned the way most Chicagoan politics had for years. The Windy City, it was indeed. But there wasn't much the ADA could do about it; his overseer, the District Attorney of Cook County, tended to turn the other cheek. And the judge continuously won elections; had been for the past twenty years.

The mayor liked him. The county executive tolerated him. And the governor adored him— in the fairly-used words of Detective Leah Uley, "It is what it is."

But even with all of Sorio's political connections, that didn't mean Jenks was willing to get fucked over by the corrupt judge. No, that was the District Attorney's modus operandi.

Especially when there was a controversial injunction ( _and the slaughterhouse cases_ ) hitting the media airwaves— Leah felt for the man; the county wasn't paying the man enough.

"With all due respect, Counselor, but _what the hell happened_?" Jacob asked ever so eloquently.

Jenks glanced up at the two detectives sitting across from him and sighed. He looked exhausted. Finished. Resigned. Fucking frustrated. Pissed-off. Ready to unleash hell. And most of all, in need of a goddamn drink.

It was eight in the morning, the day after the FBI had reportedly visited not only a particular CPD station but also the Cook County Courthouse and offices. Jenks was sitting behind his desk, at work. At a professional and integral institution. Not far from where criminals were prosecuted. A place that didn't permit the usage of tobacco or alcohol, but _damn_.

"Bourbon?" he offered.

"We don't have justification for drinking on the job," Leah remarked, and then added, pitying the poor prosecutor, "Unlike you."

"I need a shot of goddamn rubbing alcohol and a time machine, that's what I need," Jenks grumbled before swallowing down half his drink. He slammed the glass back on the table, folded his hands in front of him and just sighed. "You know, when I first got this job, I fully expected to deal with some internal corruption and shadiness. After all, we are in the Windy City, but _this_? This is all kinds of fucked-up."

"You ain't kidding," Jacob mumbled.

"First, the missing bodies that we _still_ can't find, then the slaughterhouse murders, and _now_ , a stay on an autopsy for _one_ of the hottest homicides of the year." Jenks shook his head. "And it's only March. Now, what kind of _bullshit_ is that?"

"Is that legal?" Leah asked.

"Technically, yes. I was actually impressed. I fully expected them to do what every other mob does: find alternate and criminal ways to get things down. But they went straight to the court; it's all legal." Jenks admitted, now finishing the rest of his drink. He poured himself another glass but only half-way.

"Well," Jacob said, straightening up in his seat. "That's unfortunate."

"It's a pain in my ass, it what it is." Jenks stopped to shake his head. "I just don't get it. Everyone knows that you don't shut down an autopsy for a homicide even if the family bitches about it. That's stupid; that creates attention and intrigue and the next thing you know, you're being indicted for obstruction." He sighed. "Look, I know Sorio is crooked, but he is not dumb. This shit over here? That's a dumb move. Pardon my language."

"Completely understandable, counselor," Jacob said.

"So, what can we do about it?" Leah asked.

"To be completely honest, just continue with your investigation," Jenks said. "We already have an inkling about the cause of death so go from there. It's murder. Everyone knows that. People don't mutilate themselves like that..."

"But we need that autopsy."

"No shit, but not until trial," Jenks said. "Look, leave to me. It won't be the first time I have to resort to measures to get shit done, the right and ethical way around here. Isn't that ironic? It's harder to do the right thing than wrong."

Leah shifted in her seat. "This is all disappointing, but I can't say I'm too surprised," she confessed. "Did you hear about Dr. Swan and her late-night visits?"

Jenks frowned. "Yes, I've heard."

"We know Edward Masen, a member of the Cullen family, had visited the medical examiner at least two times to discuss stopping Jessica's autopsy. Dr. Swan had rejected his request both times, and she now has a cop outside of the lab at night."

"Yes, Officer Call, right?"

Jacob shook his head. "He's been relieved of that duty ever since Sam's partner was... you know."

"Oh, _I know_ ," Jenks said, rolling his eyes. "The Cullen's have been connected to the Honorable Sorio, but we never had enough proof to show that. I'm sure this Edward talked to the man, offered the man the bank... You know how Sorio _loves_ to make decisions based on net-worth."

"How hasn't he got nabbed for that?" Leah asked. Sorio's dealings weren't much of a secret.

"Timing is everything, Detective," Jenks said confidently. "And this little move of his is certainly not going to help his case. I wouldn't worry about him; he'll get his. It's just... this Dahlia case can't be closed."

"We agree," Jacob said. "Do you have any idea why the Cullens want to suppress the findings of the autopsy? We haven't ruled them as suspects..."

"Just because they're not suspects of this murder, doesn't mean they're entirely innocent."

"So why hasn't Edward been arrested for obstruction?" Leah asked.

"That's a question you should be asking your captain," Jenks said, and then sighed. "Anyway, an arrest warrant wouldn't do anyone any good at this time. You're not the only one asking for this Edward's arrest. Paul's asked as well..."

"So...?"

Jacob cleared his throat.

"Oh, come on," Jenks told Leah. "You know this city operates differently than the others. You can bring him on, charge him for whatever, but then there's the Deal."

"The Deal isn't a legal document," Leah contended. She turned to her partner. "Isn't it?"

"It's not that simple..." Jacob mumbled.

"Leah, if there is one thing I've learned in this business, it's that the law isn't black and white. Now, the Deal—it is shady? Of course, it is. But is it legal? Perhaps dubiously, but the Department of Justice is well aware of this document; they're the ones who had put a stamp on it back in the sixties."

Leah couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So, we're just going to let Edward run free?"

"We can give him the ol' mob treatment," Jacob suggested. "Get his ass for something else. Like tax invasion."

"That's a federal crime," Jenks reminded the detective. "Outside my jurisdiction, but I'll keep that in mind for the next time the feds grace me with their presence."


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

* * *

"You'd think for a case with so much heat we'd have more information by now."

Leah had to agree with Jacob.

It was now the end of the March, about two and a half months since the inception of the Dahlia case, and it seemed that the detectives were at a standstill. The issue with this case was that it was no longer a strong one. No, there could be one, but not as direct— Leah shook her head. No, she wasn't explaining herself right. The issue was that the undisputed number one suspect was dead. Demetri Karlov, a coveted member of the Volturi had been killed off by an unknown assailant from an unknown organization.

Jessica deserved some justice, damn it; her murder could just run cold like that because of a technicality such as the death of a suspect. Leah had fully expected for Riley to give her and Jacob some insight into the murder; after all, he had seen the woman before, but he had only solidified the belief that it had been Demetri—

But why? Why would Demetri, a predator known for hiding his tracks, just leave Jessica like that? So vulgar. So violent... Just whom was he sending a message to? According to Officer Jared Cameron (Leah's new POC for the "Unit that shall not Be Named" while Paul was fuming away, butting heads with his supervisors, the ATF and the goddamn FBI), no one had talked about Jessica. Not the Cullen's. Not the Denali's and certainly not Victoria's people.

As far as the "Unit that Shall Not be Named" was concerned, Jessica had just been a naive college student who ran in with the wrong crowd— but this couldn't and didn't make any sense to Leah.

Because if she had just been that, then Edward Masen, a known member of the Cullen family, wouldn't have sought an injunction for the autopsy. She had to be important to someone somehow for some reason.

Leah grumbled under her breath as she reviewed the Dahlia's files and reports for the umpteenth time. She was missing something that was most likely so obvious, most likely _right_ under her nose, but her mind wouldn't let her find it.

She soon pulled out a transcript of Jessica's text messages, stemming from a few months back. She had seen this page countless times; reviewed it countless times, but had been frustrated to know that the woman had been smart enough to speak into code.

"You know, the Black Dahlia case was the most popular homicide in L.A. for years. It was a media sensation, still full of conspiracy theories, and it's still unsolved," Leah reminded her partner. "We just have to trust Jenks, and find out why the injunction had been stopped."

"The Cullen's didn't kill her."

"Well, they're making every effort to cover it up," Leah pointed out, turning the first page of the transcripts. Nothing of value was mentioned on the first page, just "thank you's" to numerous birthday wishes.

A text message from a couple of months back caught the detective's eye. It was from two weeks before Jessica's untimely death, sent to an untraceable number. Probably a burner phone.

 _Jessica: Feeling like the Tit girl, but this time, I ain't throwin it in the ocean. Thnx babe. XOXO._

Leah's eyes widened as she remembered the first conversation she had with Jessica's very cooperative roommate. "The Heart of the Ocean," she breathed.

"What?" Jacob asked from behind his computer monitor.

Leah quickly highlighted the text and handed the page to her partner. "Read the highlighted. Jessica was talking about that necklace."

Jacob examined the page. "Sulpicia's?"

"Remember when we talked to Angela for the first time? When she showed us Sulpicia's necklace? She referenced the Heart of the Ocean," Leah explained. "The _Tit girl_ — the girl from Titanic. Rose. Didn't she throw the necklace into the ocean at the end of the movie?'

"All I remember thinking how stupid that was," Jacob muttered. "You know how much that shit costs?"

"It was symbolic," Leah said. "You've watched that movie far too many times to be healthy, and you didn't know that?"

"Oh, shut up," Jacob rolled his eyes, and then, "Okay, so we have confirmation that she received it. As a gift from a lover or some sort. Who just happened to have a burner."

"Demetri?"

"Most likely..." Leah trailed off as her eyes stopped at a group of text messages dated January 8th, approximately one week before Jessica's murder.

 _Unknown: How much light?  
Jessica: To make a sun._

"She's talking about the UV's," Leah concluded, amazed at how much clues she and Jacob had missed. Granted, the last time they actually looked at it was before they had realized that Jessica was double-crossing two rival covens and might have been involved in the ultra-violet trade.

"Oh, look at the next page," Jacob suggested, skimming the rest of the page from his own copy of the transcripts before turning to the next one. "The Saturday before her murder. _Jessica: heading out to the bitch's warehouse to check out the sun_."

"That must be referring to the night Riley had seen Jessica," Leah said. "I just don't get it. If she was dealing, why didn't she use a burner? She must have known these texts were traceable."

Jacob frowned as he shifted through the rest of the pages. Once done, he threw the papers onto his desk and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, deep in thought. "She only had one burner," he said. "That was confiscated from her apartment. That must have been provided by the Cullen's. This right here," he pointed at the transcripts. "Was from her personal phone."

"So, she wasn't on the Volturi's payroll after all," Leah concluded. "All of her trysts with Demetri were off the books... which actually explains at lot."

"That's why the Volturi isn't making any movements about Jessica," Jacob said. "I mean, if Jessica was an associate of theirs, they would do everything in their power to cover it up, and there is no evidence of a cover-up..."

"If the Volturi had killed Jessica, they wouldn't have left her there."

"No, they wouldn't."

"So, Demetri..."

"He was there," Jacob said. "That's for damn sure."

"But you don't think he did it?"

"If he had, he couldn't have been alone," Jacob said, shaking his head. He had that expression on his face, a pained one. That told Leah that he had an inkling about something but he just couldn't prove it.

"This case is a crapshoot."

"Or maybe a part of something bigger."

"Hence Paul's task force," Leah said. It seemed like everyone was aware of Paul's plan, but no one truly knew what it involved. It had to be something serious because she had a feeling that the captain was going to get both the ATF and the FBI involved—which Paul only did at the very last resort. "Whatever we do. No matter how long it takes, we can't let this case run cold."

"I agree."

"Demetri couldn't have been the only one who had seen Jessica the night of the murder," Leah said. "They're had to be someone else. Someone who is probably still alive—"

"C'mon," Jacob abruptly said, rising from his seat. "We're visiting Mike."

* * *

"Mike, my fellow friend."

"We ain't never been friends," Mike grumbled as he let the two detectives inside his office. He motioned his guard to step out and shut the door behind him. He offered the detectives a drink; they both declined.

"Really, Mike, after all of this time?" Leah taunted, sitting down.

Mike rolled his eyes. "I don't want to talk to either of you."

"You don't exactly have much of a choice," Leah told him; she, along with Jacob, was once again in the business owner's office. None of the detectives took Mike's irritated statement to heart. "It's either you talk or your get sent downtown."

Mike was flailing "Wait— on what grounds?"

"I'm sure the feds can hit you with some RICO violations after we charge you for illegal gambling, conspiracy with the mob, harboring—"

"Okay, okay, okay," Mike said, putting his hands up in defeat. "Damn, can you let me think?"

"We've been letting you think for the past ten years," Jacob reminded him. "So, fess up or you'll be hand delivered to the Office of Jason Jenks."

"What do you want?" Mike grumbled. "If you want answers about the slaughterhouse murders, I ain't got anything."

"We're not here for that," Leah said. "We're here about the Chicago Dahlia case."

Mike scoffed. "You're still on that case?"

"You think I'm playing?" Leah challenged, narrowing her eyes. "Tell me about the victim."

"Okay, f-fine," Mike sputtered, and then contained himself. "I've met the girl before. I wasn't anything special or shit. She was following Carlisle around like a lost, desperate puppy—"

"She was his mistress," Leah finished. "We know that."

"Well, she had no business being there. She seemed out of place. Overwhelmed and awed by everything. I overheard one of the Cullen boys, Emmett, the loud one, talking about her. About how she needed to stay in her place—"

"In Carlisle's presence?" Jacob asked.

"Oh no, the man's a knucklehead, but he ain't dumb," Mike said. "Carlisle had a VIP section upstairs; he took her with him to... you know, relax."

"They were fucking upstairs," Leah verified.

"I was trying to be more PC about it, okay?" Mike shook his head. "Anyway, then the other Cullen-boy, the pretty boy—"

"Edward?"

"Yeah, he started talking about how Jessica was messing everything up, and how even after telling his boss this, Carlisle wouldn't let her go."

"Did he love her?"

"Hah! That one? I'm pretty sure she wasn't around for _emotional_ stimulation..."

"Did the wife know about this?" Leah abruptly asked. The wife of Carlisle Cullen wasn't on any of the cops' radar, not even Paul's. She was known for staying out of the limelight, occasionally volunteering at charity auctions, doing appraisals for priceless art and maintaining an extravagant garden up in Evanston. On the outside, she was like a perfect Stepford, mob wife.

"I guess," Mike replied with a tense shrug. He quickly poured himself another glass of liquor; he was getting nervous, Leah observed, but not necessarily because of his involvement. There was something else; he didn't want to talk about Esme. "She knew about the others."

"Describe Esme Cullen for us," Leah requested.

Mike glanced between Leah and Jacob. He sat up in his seat and loosened his tie. He appeared confused and taken aback about the mention of Esme. "Wait, you think she had something to do with it?"

It definitely was not outside the realm of possibility; being killed out of betrayal of the time. She knew, from personal experience, that if it wasn't for prison or the fact that would lose her job, she would have seriously considered going after Sam and Emily.

"Jilted wife targeting her husband's lover," Jacob added. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"She literally wouldn't hurt a fly," Mike insisted.

"Sure, but doesn't mean she couldn't have asked someone else do the dirty work for her," Leah pointed out. "I mean, she's the matriarch, right? She must wield _some_ power. Some influence over someone willing to do anything for her."

"She knew what she was getting herself into," Mike said, still not convinced. "She seemed fine with it."

" _Seemed_. Sometimes us women have to adapt to survive or put up an appearance that everything's time. That we should bottle everything and walk around with a smile on our face. Be happy that we simply have a ring on our finger," Leah explained, leaning forward, ignoring her partner's gaze. "But eventually... we can't just brush it off. Endure it further... Surely, you must understand."

Mike glanced at Jacob and gulped. "I've, um... never been in that position. Sorry."

"Oh c'mon, Mike," Jacob said. "You've never been jealous?"

"Of course, I have."

"And how did that feel?" Leah asked.

"It sucked." Mike eyed Leah, suspicious. "Wait, are you accusing... me?"

"No," Jacob said. "If we thought you had something to do with it, you'd be sitting in Cook County right now. We just wanted to explain to you have it's not..." He shrugged. "Out of the realm of possibility that Carlisle's wife might have had a hand in his mistress' murder."

* * *

"You're naming Esme Cullen as a suspect? As in Carlisle Cullen's wife? Since when did she get involved?"

Jacob glanced at Leah who just shrugged and told his captain, "Well, sir, no hath fury like a woman scorned."

Leah wanted to laugh at such an over-used saying, but to be honest, Jacob was right. "Esme is married to Cullen who was having an affair with Jessica, the victim, who, according to our sources, was sleeping with Demetri."

The captain raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't _he_ your primary suspect?"

"He's dead," Leah reminded her supervisor, "And we can't charge dead people. Anyway, we believe that this wasn't just a one-person thing."

"It's basically an episode of Jerry Springer," Jacob added. "But deadlier, and the mob's involved."

The captain gave Jacob a look. "It certainly looks that way, doesn't it?"

"We don't have much information about the status of the Cullen's marriage," Leah carried on. "For all we know, they may have had an open relationship—"

"So, why would Esme be mad then?" the captain asked.

"Because Jessica didn't know how to, as they call it: stay in her lane," Jacob explained.

"Even if there's an agreement or some sort," Leah said. "People usually draw the line when it comes to PDA. Some would ignore it or simply forget about the other person, but they have to hide in the shadows. From what our C.I. has told us, Jessica wasn't doing that."

"Esme must have felt disrespected," Jacob added. "After all, she's the matriarch of a crime family. She wasn't going to just let some college girl upstage her and get away with it."

"I doubt Carlisle was going to leave Esme for Jessica," the captain said.

"That's not the point," Leah argued. "I'm not trying to say that Jessica deserved her fate, but she may have been a victim was misplaced anger. Esme couldn't possibly kill her husband, so she might have gone after the next best thing."

* * *

"Do you really think she did it?"

"We won't know until we speak to her. She may not have delivered the fatal blow. But maybe she knows something."

"Right."

"And also, we need to bring a Cullen in. It's been two weeks, and no one has bothered to bring Edward in. I know Jenks' been working on it, but need _something_."

"I just realized something: we went to see Mike about Demetri and the necklace. And now we're going after Esme."

"Welcome to life, Jacob. It's always full of surprises. You wanna get a very late lunch?"

"Show me the way."

* * *

"After some deliberation, I have decided to change my mind," Jenks announced. He had called the detectives in right after their lunch that day. "Bring that bastard in. I'd like to see what excuse he and his lawyer can come up with."

The detectives shared a puzzled look.

"Who's this bastard?" Jacob asked.

"Edward-fucking-Cullen," Jenks spelled out.

"I thought you said we shouldn't bring him in because of the Deal?" Leah asked.

"Oh, you're not going to arrest him. I'm not in the mood to deal with Sorio, the DA or the superintendent," Jenks clarified, rubbing his chin. "You're going to bring him for a chat. As a person of interest."

"You want to be there?" Jacob asked.

"No, I don't want to scare him off."

"You think your presence will frighten him?"

"Detectives, no one. No matter the species wants to deal with the law," Jenks said. "He'll either cooperate or give you some bullshit story. Either way, it's better than nothing. _Oh_ , and I heard through the grapevine that you're looking at Mrs. Esme Cullen as a suspect?"

"Jessica _was_ messing around with her husband," Leah explained.

"Yeah, I guess that'd piss some people off," Jenks said, nodding. "Brought her in yet?"

"The captain's hesitant."

"Can't exactly blame him," Jenks said. He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she'll complain to the Sorio and Sorio, being Sorio, would be _Sorio_."

"You have any other ideas?" Leah asked.

"Actually, I do. You'll be happy to know that she's going to be in court this upcoming Thursday," Jenks said smirking at the detectives' amazed reactions. "Civil court, outside of my realm, but she's promised to be there. You can catch her before she testifies."

"Defendant or plaintiff?"

"Expert witness, actually," Jenks replied. "It's a breach of contract case regarding art pieces. But you didn't hear that from me."

* * *

Edward wasn't going to be an easy person to reel in. He and his family were protected by the Deal; if Leah and Jacob were going to pull this off, a simply arrest warrant (which would have been issued for anyone else) wouldn't do. And forget calling him directly; it would only be a waste of time and effort. And of course, then there was Sorio.

According to some of Jenks' friends from the county court and court documents, it was apparent that judge was doing anything in his power to make sure the Cullen's, and by extension, the Denali's wouldn't sniff prison or even a hefty fine.

"Are they dangling a goddamn sex tape over him or something?"

Leah honesty wouldn't be surprised. That was one of the grave disadvantages of being in public office. Everything was the public business unless some deals were made. "You don't think it's just the money?"

Jacob pulled up another court decision made a few years back. A goddamn mistrial regarding aggravating assault. "The only time those assholes got to trial ended in a mistrial."

"They try vampires?"

"No, this was a human associate apparently," Jacob grumbled, searching through the court documents on an online database. It had been a couple of days since speaking to Jenks. "He's been dismissing subpoenas, arrest _and_ search warrants and cases regarding the Cullen's since 2000."

"Two years after getting into office," Leah said, shaking her head. There were times when she wondered if all of the laws and police work would make a difference in this damn city. This was one of these times. "The feds gotta know about him."

"Maybe it's like what Jenks had said: timing is everything?"

"Yeah, but almost twenty years?"

"Federal cases take time. I wouldn't worry about him though. I'm sure Jenks creams everyday just thinking about Sorio behind bars."

Leah's face scrunched up in disgust. She liked Jenks; he was one of her oldest friends in the justice system, but the thought of him doing _that. "_ Thank you for the mental image."

Jacob tried to look apologetic, but Leah knew underneath the facade, he was amused. "I'm just saying. So, do you have a plan about bringing Edward in without having us both demoted?"

Leah looked beyond her computer screen and gave her partner a smirk. "In matter of fact, I do."

* * *

In matter of fact, Leah did.

Hours later, standing outside of the precinct, getting ready to get into her personal car to go home, she quickly retrieved the phone, her personal one, out of her pocket and dialed the number.

"Yes, it's Detective Leah Uley. We need to talk."

* * *

The first time Leah had met the infamous Rosalie Hale was back in 2010.

She and her former partner had been investigating a homicide involving an obscure mob informant's child. Both kidnapped from their daycare, both found inside a train Tunnel used by Amtrak trains somewhere in the Southside. In laymen's terms, the case had been a "hot mess". Even with all of the evidence, the killers couldn't be brought to justice. And it was all because of Rosalie Hale and her band of associates.

Leah had hated the woman then. She had spent a good portion of that year finding anything that could implicate the lawyer in anything. She had eventually discovered Rosalie's connections with the Cullen's. Back in '09, the lawyer had represented Carlisle back in '09 for a dismissed extortion case involving an unpopular alderman—but no matter what she found, nothing had been strong enough to arrest Rosalie.

They would meet several more times in the next couple of years, all involving criminal cases. It wasn't long before Leah began to appreciate Rosalie's field of work. Was she infuriating? Yes. Was she arrogant? Of course. But then again, maybe Rosalie had every right to be. She had a knack for magically having cases dismissed.

As far as Leah knew, Rosalie hadn't been litigating since St. Patrick's (that shit-show had resulted in many people from both sides of the law questioning their life choices). She ran a consulting agency downtown dedicating to fixing anyone who could foot the bill's problems. Politicians. Mob associates. Business men—she did it all and with amazing results.

She even worked with the Chicago Police Department now and then.

They weren't friends. Their work wouldn't allow them to be, but they no longer hated each other. And occasionally, when they realized they had no other choice and the circumstances were right, even helped each other out—that was why Leah had called Rosalie.

"I thought you'd want to continue this conversation on the phone."

"So that this conversation could be tapped?" Leah snorted at Rosalie's words. She was sitting inside the downtown office of Hale and Associates, sipping on a glass of wine. She could have a drink right now; she was no longer on the clock and as far as everyone knew, she wasn't here. "Never."

Rosalie made an approving sound as she sat down on the couch across from the detective. Her office wasn't the standard. Couches everywhere. Wine everywhere—Leah supposed this had been done on purpose, to provide clients comfort. No one came to Hale and Associates unless some shit was about to hit the fan. "You're far smarter than most of your compatriots."

"I suppose that's a compliment."

"What brings you here, Detective?" Rosalie asked.

Leah took another sip as she watched the fixer's every move. She wasn't _attracted_ to women, but she would be damned to say if the woman in front of her wasn't one of the most striking women she had ever laid eyes on. It explained a lot, Leah concluded, about the rumors of Rosalie being a human "succubus" and how she used her looks and her personality to attract clients—it wasn't fair to her. Rosalie knew the law inside and out; she knew how to manipulate her opponent and the jury with her words.

"Detective?"

The detective quickly snapped out of her thoughts. She was here to get some answers out of Rosalie, nothing else. "Edward Masen."

Leah studied the fixer's reaction. The woman recoiled, but only for a second. If Leah's attention wasn't concentrated on Rosalie, she would have never seen it. After clearing her throat, Rosalie crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap, expression impassive. "And what makes you think I know anything about him?"

Leah snorted. This was just a part of the fixer's same. "Miss Hale, seriously, I thought you had more respect for me."

"I do," Rosalie insisted, smirking. "If I hadn't, you wouldn't be here."

Leah supposed the fixer had a point. She finished off her wine and carefully placed the glass on the table in front of her. She sat up in her seat and looked up at Rosalie who was watching her intently. For the first time, Leah truly noticed the color of Rosalie's eyes, amber, and the paleness of her skin. And how the woman made a concerted effort to conceal her teeth.

She didn't want to make assumptions, but given the events of the past couple of months, she found herself questioning every person she encountered. Were they human? Vampires? Shape-shifters? _Trolls_? How could she tell?"

Leah's attention shifted to the glass in Rosalie's hand; the liquid could pass off as a Bloody Mary at a glance, but Leah had a sinking feeling that the red came from someone else—she didn't comment on it.

"I know you've been snooping around numerous law offices and police stations," Leah said. "I also know you're well aware of what's been going on since the start of the year—the Dahlia case, the Denali's case, Demetri's case and the slaughterhouse case. And I know you're aware about that injunction your favorite judge had placed on Jessica Stanley's autopsy."

"It's not exactly private knowledge," Rosalie argued, and then, "Sorio _isn't_ my favorite judge."

"Your previous clients may think otherwise."

"Hm." Rosalie took another sip of her _Bloody_ _Mary_. "There isn't much I can tell you."

"Bullshit."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "You must understand my position, Detective. I cannot confirm or deny anything."

Leah leaned forward. "Not even off the record?"

"There is no such thing," Rosalie said. Her gaze dropped to her lap as she sighed. "Anyway, I have my allegiances."

"I thought you didn't have any?"

Rosalie leaned against the coach, taking another sip. She was holding back, Leah could feel it. But it did seem that she wanted to get something off her head. "I suppose a better word would be: obligation. As stated on the letter of retainer."

Leah cocked her head to the side. "You're back to practicing?"

"I have never stopped," Rosalie said. "Just took an extended break."

"And surely you're representing the Cullen's," Leah realized. She didn't wait for Rosalie to confirm or deny anything. But from the look in the lawyer's eyes, Leah knew her assumption was right. "Well, I guess there's no point on beating around the bush: We have evidence that someone associated with the Cullen's business tried to obstruct an investigation by threatening a government employee. Edward Masen."

"Oh, really?"

"Oh, come on, Hale, haven't you noticed the spite in body count?"

"I was under the impression that the city murder count only includes humans."

"Think of this as a courtesy request," Leah said. "Either your client speaks to us or your client speaks to the feds."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. "And why would the feds want to speak to us?"

Leah nodded. "The official report that's released to the public: yes. But I know you know there are a lot of eyes on this city because of the murders. Your clients' friend made a grave mistake by messing with the Dahlia case. You know someone is going to complain to the feds about that."

"Do you really want to go down this road?" Rosalie asked moments later, serious. Leah supposed the fixer was just doing her a favor, subtly informing her about the dangerous of getting involved with the Cullen's.

Leah's eyes reached Rosalie's, unwavering. "Yes."

* * *

Rosalie texted Leah three hours later.

 _10:00am tomorrow on 2620 Dearborn. Ste. 403._

Leah figured Rosalie wouldn't let Edward step on foot inside an interview room, inside of a precinct. Leah was fine with it. It wasn't as messy.

 _See you then._

* * *

"If I kiss you, would you report me for harassment or shoot me?"

Leah laughed, but Jacob actually seemed serious. His expression, his voice did wonders for her ego. "Shut up, Jacob."

"Seriously, I think I'm in love," Jacob breathed. He stole a glance before the traffic light turned green. They were returning to the precinct after another morning visit to the Office of the Medical Examiner. "But really, how did you...?"

Leah rolled her eyes as she turned on the car radio. She stopped at the AM news station. "Jacob, I've been a cop for just as long as you. Don't you think I have connections of my own?" She glanced at her partner who was still gripping the steering wheels, eyes widened in amazed. "Seriously, it's only a meeting. You're acting like we've arrested a shit ton of people."

"In all honestly, it has the same effect," Jacob said, grinning. He deeply breathed and relaxed as if all of his stress suddenly just disappeared the moment Leah had told him the news. "Can I get you dinner then? Your choice."

"Sure."

* * *

Leah was in a serious mood for some bar food. Preferably something on the healthier side, which now that she was thinking about it, was essentially an oxymoron.

Jacob just laughed but took his partner to the bar ran by Paul's childhood friend, Quill. Leah was growing to like this place, partially because of Quill's insistence not to let her pay for her drinks. She still provided tips which the bar owner still begrudgingly accepted.

Jacob ordered Leah her favorite dish while she used the restroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Leah found herself staring at her plate. Right in front of her was a massive fried fish sandwich, overloaded with tartar sauce and a large side of onion rings. Her stomach jumped for joy as her arteries groaned. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Murder by food seems like too much like work," Jacob joked. "Oh, come on, I know you're on some no-carb, no-fat diet thing, but we've had a shitty past couple of months. You'll be fine. And no offense, you did pick a _bar_ for dinner."

"After tonight, I'm going to be eating salad until the end of the year," Leah grumbled though eagerly reaching for her union rings.

By the time Leah finished a quarter of her rings, had a bite of the delicious sandwich and seat back against the booth, reaching out for her beer, Jacob already downed one of his half-pounders. "I don't understand; where does it all go?"

"High metabolism is a beautiful thing," Jacob said, grinning before taking a large bite of burger number two. He washed it down with beer.

"You say that now," Leah said before taking a swig. "But just you wait. Twenty years from now, you're going to be wishing that you ate more salad."

"I _do_ eat salad," Jacob defended, though poorly. "Occasionally. Maybe once in a blue moon, but you know, wolves need their meat. Have you ever heard of a vegetarian wolf?"

No, she hadn't. But not wanting to be proven wrong, Leah shifted topics. Somewhat. "Speaking of wolves, I have been doing some research..."

She wanted to say it was only because of the whole Stockyards debacle, but she was honestly just curious.

Jacob stopped mid-chew and raised an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned about where this conversation is heading?"

"Don't be so dramatic." Leah lightly chided, shaking her head. "I'm trying to learn more about the supernatural since I've been dealing with them for the past couple of months."

"And hopefully for many years to come," Jacob said, grinning widely, with a wink, and then, "Alright, ask away."

"Are you a part of a pack? Or is that strictly a one hundred percent wolf thing?"

Jacob blinked. "I'm an alpha."

"So, I take that as a yes."

Jacob shrugged. "... I guess."

"You guess?"

"It's... complicated," Jacob said, and then, " _Extremely_ complicated."

"Do I know any of them?" Leah carried on. "Your pack mates?"

"It's not my position to say," Jacob replied, honest about his feelings. "Sorry."

From the corner of her eye, Leah could see Quill watching her. She looked his way and waved. He waved back, flashing her a slight, reserved smile. "No need to apologize," she said. Jacob had been telling her enough. "I'm just being nosy."

"I don't mind the questions. It's just that we have to live on the low. It wouldn't be right for me to out anyone."

"I get it."

"Any other questions?"

"How is it made?" Leah asked. "A pack?"

"There's many nuances to it... but in layman's terms, it's just like a vampire coven," Jacob explained, "Pack's generally made of people you've either turned and don't hate you for doing so or attracted others who, for some reason, have a connection with you..." He paused to clear his throat. "Like I said: it's complicated."

"So, you're like responsible for them, being that you're an alpha?"

"Yes," Jacob quickly said, and then, "Some people are born alphas; some are made."

"And you?"

"I'm not too sure," Jacob admitted. "Everything just happened so fast..."

"Do you like your position?"

"Like everything, it has its pros and cons," Jacob said with a slight shrug. "But it's not the end of the world. I have competent, relatively level-headed people behind my back; it makes life easier."

"Why didn't you tell your wife?"

Leah immediately regretted asking that question. It was personal; it involved a topic that she knew that Jacob wouldn't be comfortable discussing. During their previous conversations, usually about her problems with Sam, she had received snippets about Jacob's former marriage; each time, she learned more and more, but the man was still being invasive about it.

It was completely understandable, and just when Leah was going to apologize once again for entering uncharted waters, Jacob took a deep breath and motioned Quill to get someone to give him another beer.

Leah felt bad.

And the pair's conversation would stall until Jacob received his second pair. He opened up, staring out to the distance, slurped down about a quarter of it and said, slamming the bottle on the table.

"I wanted to tell Monica," he cleared his throat. "I wanted to tell her back in high school. She had the right to know. Every fucking right, but I chickened out. Thought that I could just wing it. I was born with _this_ , you know. No one else in my family has it. At least, the ones who are still alive. I mean, it's a genetic thing. People in my tribe are known for it, but the only advice I'd ever received about it was from people _outside_ my family. Not that I blame them, you know. I mean, they can't possibly personally know how it feels to transform. They were supportive, but—"

"It wasn't the same," Leah quietly finished; she didn't have any other response to Jacob's verbal vomit.

Jacob shook his head. "I hadn't met one who was my age until I joined the force. And most of them were on the _wrong_ side of the law." He rolled his eyes, most likely at himself. "I didn't want Monica to think that I was some monster."'

"Did she love you?"

"Yeah," Jacob said, and then, under his breath, "But I don't think I loved myself at the time."

Leah cleared her throat, reaching over for her fries. She leaned forward and said in a whisper, "Secrets don't do marriages any good," she quietly said. She didn't know if her words made the situation worse; she was practically criticizing her partner. "You may think you're making a smart decision, and then it blows up in your face."

"Don't I know that," Jacob replied, staring down at his beer.

"Is that why you told me?" Leah asked. "About yourself?"

Jacob looked up at her. "You're my partner. I thought you'd find out eventually." He sighed. "So... you've talked to Sam?"

"I told him I wanted a divorce."

"You don't sound so... I don't know, sure about it."

"Oh, I am," Leah insisted. "But Sam's... he's hiding something from me. I know it."

"Besides the mistress and the incoming child?"

"Believe it or not yes. I just have this gut feeling."

"Stemming from what?"

"How long did it take you to get a divorce?"

"Uh, about a year, once everything was finalized. First, we had to live separately for six months to prove that the marriage was never going to ever work and then we had to deal with all of the legal shit." Jacob nodded. "Yeah, about a year and ours was an amicable split."

"You didn't wait?"

"Why would we? Waiting wasn't going to change Monica's mind. Why you ask?"

"Sam wants me to wait until the end of the year."

"Oh." Jacob raised both eyebrows " _Why_? If anything, that makes him look like shit during the proceedings. Isn't Emily going to have her baby by then?"

" _That's what I'm saying._ Do you think it's work-related?"

"The only way I can see that if it he's going to go undercover. Then, I get it. You don't wanna go through all that divorce bullshit while you're supposed to be playing someone else. Too complicated."

"He would've told me if he was going UC."

"You'd think."

Leah shook her head. "Sometimes I don't know what goes on in his head..."

"We all can't be mind-readers. Look, Sam has made some very questionable decisions, but he ain't dumb. There has to be a good reason, at least, in his mind, what he wants to wait until the end of the year—"

"But he won't tell me."

"He will have to eventually."


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

* * *

Leah never wanted Seth to get involved in her marital drama, but she supposed it had been foolish for her to think he wouldn't. Seth, although still a kid in Leah's eyes, was too smart, too cognizant for his good. He would make a good detective, even better than his sister, Leah would reluctantly admit.

Or maybe it was his personality that made him great at convincing people to drop their guard. He had the smile of a trustworthy guy with a pure heart of gold and a tendency to keep his mouth shut. Maybe that was why Leah had, unfortunately, subjected herself to one of the most uncomfortable, infuriating conversations she had in a long time. Both in her private life and her professional.

She wished her mother hadn't run off an hour earlier to meet up with her friends for the weekly mani-pedi's, leaving her alone with _him_.

"So, what's up with you and Sam?"

Leah looked up from the Tuesday edition of the _Chicago Tribune_ , raising an eyebrow. Seth was sitting across from her, devouring his third bowl of cereal— _Where did all of that go?_ Leah complained mentally— pausing only to stare at his sister expectantly. After realizing that she would have to respond at some point, Leah put the paper down and let out a tired sigh.

"It's complicated," she said.

Seth rolled his eyes. "We're not on Facebook, big sis. You can't just say that."

"Well, I did," Leah retorted, "And that's that—"

"Sam didn't miss the wedding because of the flu, didn't he?"

Leah gave her brother an annoyed up before picking up her paper, mumbling under breath about annoying little brothers.

"Oh, come on, Leah, you can't ignore me—"

"What is this, an interrogation?"

"I'm just working on my future career," Seth innocently said before shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "That's all."

"That's all," Leah replied, deadpanned. She turned to the second page of the paper. "I can't believe this..."

"So, is that a no or is that a yes?'

"Why can't you mind your business, Seth?"

"Because you're my sister. Your business is my business."

Leah narrowed her eyes. " _Bullshit_."

"So...?" Seth carried on. "Look, I'm going to keep asking until you give me a full answer. Unless of course, you want me to call mom and ask myself—"

"You're a devious little shit, aren't you?"

"It takes one to know one," Seth said, grinning and giving his sister a wink. He ducked and chuckled when a ball of paper toilet went his way. "So...?"

Leah sighed. "Sam and I are going through some things."

Seth sat up. "Uh oh." He took another bite. "Define some things?"

"We're getting a divorce."

He didn't seem as surprised as Leah thought he would be. But then again, Seth, although he would never admit it to anyone, wasn't Sam's biggest fan; Leah never bothered to ask why.

"Why?"

"We're getting a divorce."

"Why?"

"Because we are."

"That's not a reason," Seth pointed out, reaching for his orange juice. After a couple of gulps, he said, "You know, it'll be easier if you just told me everything." He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "What did he do?"

"What makes you think he did something?"

"Oh come on, I know mom knows," Seth said. "She's no longer gushing about Sam to her friends. Like: _oh, did you see who my daughter's married to? A detective who's five seconds away from getting a promotion_."

"Oh my god, Seth," Leah whined. "She doesn't say that."

"Does, too."

Seth leaned in and dropped his voice. "Does this have anything to do with Emily?"

"What do you know about Emily?"

"Uh, that mom hates her now," Seth said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She said something about a bastard baby- and..." He gasped. "Wait, _no_."

Leah's interest suddenly jumped a tenfold because her brother had _that_ look on his face; the look of realization. "No, what?"

"It explains so much!"

"It explains what?"

"I dunno. They've been acting weird towards each other for a while. Nothing bad or anything, but weird," Seth explained. "I heard her mentioning something a while back about going on vacation together. I assumed she meant all of us..." His eyes widened as he gulped. "Oh my god, I should've known!"

"No one knew," Leah reasoned, "Not even me, and I'm a goddamn detective." She closed the paper again and set it aside. "And please don't beat yourself over this. _I know you_."

" _That asshole_ —!"

"Don't call him that."

"Well, he is one," Seth bit back.

Leah raised an eyebrow at her brother, steaming away in his seat, gripping his spoon as if it had offended him. She wasn't used to seeing him mad. It just seemed _wrong_.

"Leah—"

"What's done is done," Leah said. She was tired of feeling upset. "Now, hurry up with your breakfast. You have a 5k to run in under 25 minutes."

A look of despair quickly replaced Seth's anger. "But _why_?" he complained. "I only have a do a mile-and-half run for the police test?"

"Because I said so."

* * *

"Jacob, promise me something."

"Anything."

"Let me do the talking."

"Leah—"

Leah raised her hand, silencing her partner. Both were sitting inside of Jacob's car, parked along the side of Rosalie's other downtown office. The building was only five stories high, made out of brick. It didn't seem like a place Rosalie would conduct her affairs, but maybe it was. It was inconspicuous.

The captain knew about this meeting but chose not to get involved by refusing to hear the details. The reason was never discussed, but Leah had a sinking feeling it had to do with Sorio and the Deal, both of which was fucking over this police department (among other things)— it was disheartening, but like Jacob had told her, it could have been worse. Their captain was still letting the detectives their jobs without much interference.

"I know Rosalie from way back," Leah said, glancing out of the passenger window, checking out the other side of the street for some suspicious figures. This wasn't her first rodeo, meeting up with people residing on the other side of the law; there had been times when their suspect's "friends had surprisingly ambushed she and her team." But so far, the coast was clear. "I know she operates, and I'm sure Edward would prefer a mere human to lead the meeting. Maybe it'll bring his guard down."

"And he won't if I talk?"

"You are a six-seven shapeshifter with a grudge against vampires," Leah reminded her partner, patting his shoulder. "And you do a horrible job hiding it. He'll pick up on it, and his walls will go right back up, and we won't get squat from him. Trust me, on this, okay?"

"Okay," Jacob wanted to fight it, but he eventually just sighed, glancing out of his window and at the building. "Fine, but if he does anything—"

Leah found Jacob's concern endearing, but this wasn't the time for this. They had a job to do. "You're going to be right next to me, Jacob. I'm sure he won't make a move." "Promise me you won't talk."

"Fine."

" _Jacob_."

"I promise."

* * *

The detectives managed to walk onto the fifth floor, the last floor, without a problem. It was a private, according to Google, owned by Hale and Associates, LLC. Leah had done some research on the building, just in case she had to use incriminating information against Rosalie if she got out of line, but much to his disappointment (but not surprised), everything seemed legit— at least, the lawyer did her homework. Not many people in her field, working for a _certain_ facet of society, did.

The floor was everything Leah expected, laid out like a corporate law office. There was a receptionist, of course, by the name of Marie, a pretty young lady who was working for Rosalie as a "favor." The detectives caught the eye of some associate lawyers who wisely didn't say anything to them beyond the general pleasantries. Leah was expected to be bombarded by Rosalie's partner-in-crime/paralegal, Alice Brandon, but she assumed that she was out in the world, collecting information for her boss' most important yet scandalous clients.

They were led to one of the back rooms by a man who claimed to be yet another receptionist but looked like a stereotypical mobster with a nice suit. But he seemed relatively professional enough to the point that the detectives mutually decided while walking into the room that held their "guests" not to ask about him unless they had no other choice.

And there was Mr. Edward Masen. It was about time Leah met the man who had caused damage to the Dahlia case. She wished she could arrest the man for merely visiting Bella and obstruction, and it _killed_ her to know that she couldn't do it.

But she wasn't here to express her irritation for the man who was sitting across the table, right next to his legal representation, Rosalie. Both dressed to the nine in suits that most likely cost more than her monthly income. They looked like they were both attending a corporate meaning rather than an under-the-table "conversation" with two city detectives. Both extremely confident.

She glanced at Jacob, hoping her partner wouldn't be offended by the others' obvious relaxed state. He needed to remain his cool, and from the smug look on their perp's face, it wasn't going to be easy. "Good morning, thank you for meeting at such short notice," Leah began, sitting down.

"It's our pleasure," Rosalie said, shifting her attention to Jacob. She looked at him for a bit and said, "Interesting."

" _Interesting_?" Jacob questioned, leaning forward until he caught Leah's disapproving gaze. He stopped and then retreating, forcing out a professional grin. "Thank you for coming here."

"I believe you know my partner, Detective Black," Leah said, and then, as she folded her hands on the table, "So, let's get straight to business."

Leah honestly wasn't expecting much from this meeting. She knew Rosalie; she knew the lawyer had coached Edward until Kingdom Come on what to say when facing the victims. She and Jacob were here for answers of course, but they were here to observe. Jenks had wanted to see how Edward and his lawyer would react to the accusations. That was all.

"Let's, Rosalie challenged.

Edward hadn't said a word but didn't seem worried. Confident, more than anything, which annoyed Leah to no end. But she supposed she couldn't blame him. Rosalie Hale was sitting right next to him.

"What would you like to start with, Detective?" Rosalie asked.

Leah glanced at Jacob, making sure he understood his "role" during this moment. He had promised her to keep quiet, but she already accepted that he was bound to say something. Just hopefully nothing too unhelpful. "How about we start with obstruction?"

"Obstruction?" Rosalie let out a soft chuckle. "My apologies, Detective, but my client has done no such thing."

"Oh, he's just been a model citizen the _entire_ time, then?" Leah challenged, now looking at Edward who had tensed up in his seat, proving that he wasn't too happy about this accusation. He seemed like he wanted to explode, maybe even confront Leah, but then he glanced at Jacob who was more or less snarling at the vampire and relaxed his stance.

Leah looked between Edward and her partner, fascinated by this development. It was as if something happened between them that she—nor Rosalie—had known about.

Edward sat up in his chair, offended. " _Excuse me_."

"Mr. Mason, please," Rosalie implored her client, putting on her game face. Leah wondered if the lawyer was putting up a front or being sincere. Because based on their conversation the day before, Rosalie had unofficially confirmed that her client had, indeed, obstructed an investigation. She wondered what game the lawyer was playing, and if Edward knew about it. "My client has obstructed nothing."

"Really, so would you call it then?" Leah challenged. "Visiting a medical examiner in the middle of the night, requesting her to disregard the autopsy. And _wa-la_ , a couple of months later, a certain judge has granted a stay on said autopsy."

"I call it an issue between you and the courts," Edward replied coolly.

Leah leaned back her seat and examined the man across from her. He was a pretentious, over-confident man. A far from the respectable man Bella had described Edward to be. But then again, he was a high-ranking member of the Cullen family. He _had_ to be cocky; it was like a defense mechanism for mobsters.

"Okay, let's carry on," Leah began, pulling out her note pad. "Mr. Masen, I am sure you are aware of the investigation into the murder of one Jessica Stanley, correct?"

Edward crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I thought this wasn't supposed to be an interrogation?"

"This isn't," Rosalie insisted, giving Leah a pointed look. "Carry on, Detective."

"It's not," Leah insisted. "At this moment, although they have been accusations regarding your involvement in the injunction, you have not been declared as a primary suspect in the murder."

"At least," Jacob added, "Not yet."

"All we want to know if you have some insight."

"I didn't know her," Edward said.

"Oh c'mon, Masen," Jacob said. "We _all_ know that's a lie."

"Well, for one, she worked for Alistair who has been servicing your boss for decades," Leah added, "And we know that your boss and Jessica have been involved. Intimately."

"Then why are you not after his boss?" Rosalie challenged. "This has nothing to do with my client."

"We're not accusing him of murder," Leah reminded Rosalie. "We only want to know if he had known Jessica. We aren't even accusing any members of the Cullen family," and then, "Edward, I know you don't want to go through this. But it's either you talk to us, or you talk to the feds, and I'm pretty sure you don't want the latter."

"Bullshit," Edward said.

Leah's attention was primarily on Rosalie's body language. Though she hid it quite well, the lawyer was becoming frustrated, not with the detectives, but with her client and his testy answers. She must have expected Edward to be smoother and not so defensive.

Leah loved _defensive_. "Defensive" usually meant guilty. "Bullshit? If we'd thought you had something to do with it, we would have arrested you."

"Not with the Deal, you would have," Edward said, and then, " _Ah_ , I know where this is heading. You want me to take a plea, and—"

"Why don't you want Jessica's autopsy to be complete?" Leah asked, cutting the man off. "It's a simple question."

"That I don't have to answer," Edward said.

"I mean, we can issue a subpoena, if you like," Leah offered. It was more like a threat, and Rosalie and Edward knew it. "But then you would have to testify, or else you get sent to Cook County for contempt."

"They would never send my client to Cook County," Rosalie retorted confidently.

"Then how about Alcatraz?" Leah suggested. She shifted her attention to Edward. "I'm sure they'll be able to accommodate to _your kind_."

Edward's glare was a heated one. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're a smart man, Mr. Masen. I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about," Leah quickly said. In the back of her mind, she knew she was butting heads with a goddamn vampire, a mobster one, at that. A man who could probably kill her in a snap of a finger. But she didn't care if she was some mere human. A criminal was a motherfucking criminal.

"Jessica Stanley," Jacob said.

"Like I said," Edward grumbled. "I didn't know her."

"But you've met her before?"

" _Detective_ ," Rosalie warned.

"It's a simple question," Leah argued. "I'm just trying to wrap my mind of why your client would do such a thing for a girl he didn't _know_. Mr. Masen, did your boss order you to _handle_ Jessica?"

Edward's response was an abrupt, violent rise from his seat.

The detectives only looked at him, expectantly.

"Edward, _sit_ ," Rosalie ordered through gritted teeth. Though it seemed, once again, she was angrier with her client then the detectives. She then straightened up in her seat and gave the detectives a forced, professional smile. "Detectives, we have the Deal on our side."

"Yes, in regards to the Chicago Police Department, but not to the feds," Leah reminded the lawyer, but she was pretty confident that Rosalie already knew that. "All we want is your cooperation, Mr. Masen."

"I'm not a rat," Edward gritted out, and then, he turned his attention to Jacob, who was still glaring at him. "Oh, you'd love to see me behind bars, wouldn't you?" He taunted. "Your people never did like mine. Shame, isn't it?"

"It has nothing to with your kind and everything to do with you guys being assholes," Jacob snapped, despite his Leah's looks of disagreement. "I wouldn't act all high and mighty if I were you. You ain't immune to the law. You're just a vampire, not a goddamn god."

Leah and Rosalie shared the same exasperated look.

Edward sucked his teeth and turned his attention to Leah. "Perhaps, you should calm down your partner."

"Perhaps, you should shut the hell up, Mr. Masen," Jacob snapped. "And be grateful that the only reason why you're not behind bars right now is because of a bullshit covenant."

Leah tried not to roll her eyes. This was _exactly_ the reason why she wanted Jacob to keep his mouth shut.

To express her annoyance without making a fool out of herself, she did what was probably one of the most childish things of her career and pinched her partner's thigh as hard as she possibly could. The man was rock-solid, but he seemed to have gotten the point.

" _Gentlemen_ ," Rosalie chastised.

"And Ms. Hale, I sure hope you don't plan to hide your client behind the Deal."

Edward snorted. "It's a straightforward covenant—"

Rosalie gave her client a look before continuing, "Yes, Detective Uley, like my partner's said: it's a straightforward covenant."

"No covenant is black and white," Leah said. "I thought a fine lawyer like yourself would've known that." She pulled her business card from her pocket and handed it to Edward. "You know you people have a code of silence. But if you value your freedom, give me a call one day, will you?"

As fully expected, Edward didn't take the card. It was no matter, Leah concluded, but Rosalie had her number. She might not have gotten much from Edward in terms of details about the Dahlia case, but she knew that Rosalie now understood that she wasn't playing.

"Good day," Leah told both Rosalie and Edward.

"Good day," Rosalie responded.

Edward didn't say a word.

* * *

"That asshole did it. He's the one who ordered Sorio to stop that autopsy. Did you see how he reacted? I know Rosalie's livid with him. He practically incriminated himself."

"Who you telling? _Fuck_ , you know what really pisses me off? The fact that if that asshole was anyone else, we could have hauled him to Cook County and slap like, ten charges on him. Obstruction, menacing, harassment…"

"I still don't understand why they're getting special treatment," Leah complained, glaring through the windshield. In the distance, she could see a police car driving past by, blaring its sirens. "The law shouldn't pick and choose who to apprehend."

"You know why."

"How does Paul even do his job?"

"His job technically doesn't exist, remember?"

"Oh, I _remember_ ," Leah said, crossing her arms. "I just don't get it. At the rate we're going, we can't change anyone with a connection to Jessica's murder. I just… so, let me get this straight: because of a Deal signed back in the sixties, we can't touch _anyone_?"

"Yeah, sounds about right," Jacob mumbled.

"And you're alright with this?"

Jacob rolled his eyes as he put on his seatbelt. "Of course not."

"How is any of this legal?"

"Dubiously legal," Jacob said. "Like I told you before, the supernatural technically doesn't exist under the law."

"But there's an entire criminal underworld—"

"Leah, like I said, we have to pick our battles," Jacob grumbled. "Damn it. We can barely handle the crimes involving humans."

"It's practically vampire open-season and the police department ain't doing a damn thing about it," Leah snapped. "Like we're supposed to sit back? Is that what you're telling me?"

"It's complicated."

"Why does it have to be?"

"Ask the superintendent," Jacob challenged, shaking his head. He refused to look at Leah. "And it's not just vampires, Leah. My people aren't saints either... it's just the ones we are dealing with right now. The ones responsible for Jessica's murder, they're all just happened to be vampires."

"Why can't we just do police work?" Leah asked, dropping her arms, feeling hopeless. "Why we have to deal with politics?"

"Because we're public servants, Leah," Jacob said, finally putting the key into the ignition. "Politics are everywhere, and that ain't gonna change."

* * *

On Thursday, Leah and Jacob went to the Cook County Circuit Court in downtown Chicago in hopes of running into the wife of Carlisle Cullen, Mrs. Esme Cullen, nee Platt. The matriarch of the Cullen family. The trophy wife, according to everyone who didn't know her.

Leah learned throughout the week that Esme wasn't as she seemed.

* * *

 _"Esme Cullen, do you know her?" Leah had asked Riley the night before, under a dingy, badly-lit train overpass. Although Riley was technically a member of Victoria's gang which despised the Cullen's with a passion. He had to have known the wife of his leader's arch-nemesis._

 _And he apparently had. "The smartest person in the Olympic coven," he whispered._

 _"Even more than Carlisle?"_

 _"Let's just say if she really wanted to run shit, she would have done so a long time ago," Riley had said. "People are loyal to her, perhaps even more than Carlisle."_

 _"How is that possible?"_

 _"For one, she ain't an asshole," Riley had said. "At least, relatively speaking."_

* * *

Both of the detectives were currently sitting in the lobby of the courthouse, looking out for the matriarch. They had to remain as inconspicuous as possible even though they were pretty sure Edward had mentioned them to the woman. They had arrived at 10:00 am and planned on staying there until they saw her.

If they were going to approach Esme, they had to be smart about it. Non-confrontational. Not aggressive. Leah had to be the one doing most of the talking because Jacob, being Jacob, would probably make an unconscious snide remark about vampires. And the vampires would rile him up about shapeshifters— it would be way too messy.

Leah told her partner this, and although Jacob seemingly wanted to dispute the claim, he ultimately agreed to go along with the plan.

"Well, what do you know," Jacob remarked. "We get breaks after all."

They saw her at noon, and she was everything that had been described to the detectives. She was walking out of the elevator, surrounded by people who could be assumed to be her guards, all dressed in suits, all wearing dark sunglasses, all ignoring the curious looks from some of the passerby's. She seemed perfect, Leah mused as she watched the other woman's every move. So graceful... she looked like a society lady in her dress and mannerisms. She was speaking to another woman, from what Leah could tell a personal assistant of some sort.

"Mrs. Cullen!" Leah called out as the woman. She wanted to be low key, but thankfully, most of the passerby's had already freed the hallway, courtesy of the news of a sample dessert giveaway right outside of the Courthouse.

Esme must have heard Leah, but she stopped and looked her away, a bit taken aback. She watched closely as Leah stood up, followed by Jacob, both waiting for the group to approach them.

They eventually did with Esme standing in the middle, admitting a neutral vibe; she wasn't as high-and-mighty as Edward.

"Mrs. Cullen," Leah politely greeted with a slight nod.

Esme didn't immediately reply. She looked from detective to detective, curious but not standoff-like. "I am sorry," she said, "Have we met?"

"No, not personally," Leah replied. "I am Detective Uley, and this is my partner, Detective Black. From CPD."

Esme raised an eyebrow. "Ah," she said as two of her guards stepped forward, tense and ready to act. Leah stood her ground while Jacob stood up next to her, tall and defiant. The matriarch held her hand up, signaling her guards to stay put. "I would love to sit and chat with the members of the _esteemed_ Chicago Police Department, but I must be leaving."

Leah pressed as the matriarch began to walk away. "About Jessica Stanley."

Esme was only a few feet past the detective when she turned around. She stared at Esme, with her mood shifting from pleasantly-neutral to defensive-neutral. "If you have any questions, Detective, you will have to speak to my lawyer."

Leah was hoping she would say that. "Who is?"

"Amun Husseini," Esme replied. "Now, if you do not mind, I have somewhere to be. Good day."

Leah said nothing under the woman turned back around and walked away. One of the guards glanced back with a warning glint in his eye. But Leah wasn't fazed. "Good way, Mrs. Cullen," she said, and then, "Jacob, you got the name?"

"Amun Husseini," Jacob said. "Yeah, I got him."

* * *

"Any luck on the injunction?"

"Sorio that jackass refuses to relent," Jenks complained a few hours later. "I got two more weeks until I'll have no choice but to bring out the big guns."

"You mean the feds," Leah said, sitting down in front of the prosecutor. "I think they're already looking into it."

"No, they're looking into the murders. Sort of," Jenks clarified. "Give it some time. They'll expand their investigation. Oh— how could I forget? How was your meeting with Edward and Esme?"

"Edward's an asshole," Jacob said, deadpanned.

"Of course, he is. He's in the mob," Jenks replied. "Anything else?"

"He did it," Leah said. "He's the one who convinced Sorio to issue the injunction. Of course, he didn't actually say it, but you can tell by his demeanor."

"He was a bit testy," Jacob added.

"As I expected," Jenks replied, nodding. "You see, that man likes to put up a front. He's the cool and collected one until law enforcement gets involved." He smirked, and then, "And the misses?"

"We ran into her at court," Leah said. "She's everything you've described her to be. By the way, Esme is represented by one Amun Husseini. If you want her to talk, we have to go through him."

"Just as I suspected," the prosecutor said, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms. He had his thinking face on. "You've heard about Paul's task force, right?"

"Yeah, everyone's talking about it," Leah carefully replied. "I mean, _everyone_."

"And you both are going to join in?"

"We were asked," Jacob said. "We're considering it."

"Good."

Leah exchanged a look with her partner before asking, "And about Edward and Esme...?"

"I'll pull some strings," Jenks decided. "Get a subpoena or two. But you know I can't do anything until we have concrete evidence."

"No one's talking," Leah reminded the prosecutor.

"Of course, no one's talking," Jenks said. "Except for the kid. What's his name again?"

"Riley," Jacob responded. "Riley Biers."

"Yeah, him." Jenks nodded. "Oh, I'm going to subpoena him too..."


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

* * *

"Good morning, everyone. Thank you for being here. Before I begin, I just want to say that I hope you all have a lifetime supply of extra-caffeinated coffee for the next several months, because you're going to need it. And maybe some hard liquor."

The room was filled with laughter.

Some genuine, some nervous.

Jacob joined in.

Leah did, as well.

It was Monday morning, two weeks after Leah had returned from Washington and almost three months since Jessica Stanley's murder. Usually, at this time, Leah would be roaming around Chicago with Jacob, following leads, squeezing information out of Riley and Mike, somehow figuring how to arrest Edward and Esme while lifting the injunction and such. But now, she was standing in the middle of Paul's precinct, leaning against the desks with an extremely, but needed, hot cup of coffee in his hand. She wasn't the only one present; Jacob was right next to her. Aisha was sitting several feet away, and Paul, standing in the middle of the open office space, commanded all attention from the dozen or so people surrounding him. Some Leah recognized, some she didn't.

Leah's captain finally relented to Paul—he had told her and Jacob such the past Friday. Eight o'clock at night. He had mentioned that both detectives could decline the offer, but neither had.

Leah glanced to the left and froze mid-sip. There was Sam, leaning against a column with a red bull in his hand. He didn't seem to notice her. She let out a breath quickly returned her attention to Paul. _Right_. Paul had mentioned about Sam being involved, but he didn't tell in what capacity. Then again, she had no idea what the hell was going on or why she was even here in the first place.

She glanced down at her coffee and took another sip.

"I am sure you've all heard some rumblings about a new task force being created in response to the increasing activity involve specific criminal organizations," Paul carried on, removing all humor from his voice. "Well, I'm here to say that the rumors are true. You are all here because you've been specifically chosen to partake in this new mission. Voluntary mission," he stressed. "I'm going to be frank with you, if you have any obligations, particularly family-related, you may want to take some time saying yes."

No one said a word.

"I also want to preface by saying that the moment I finish this sentence, everyone said after will be considered _classified_ information. If you have any issue with this, then I highly suggest you leave right now. Because I assure you the ramifications of leaking anything will be considered as not a violation of this city's security, but also national security…"

That caught Leah's attention. She would never consider doing such a thing (maybe it was her paranoia speaking), but she was just a homicide detective. She never had to handle "classified information." What was she—

She stole a glimpse of Jacob. He was still next to her, arms-crossed so tightly that she could trace out his bicep muscles under his button-down shirt. His face was impassive; his eyes remained on the captain. He was tensed, and Leah didn't know how she felt about it.

As a matter of fact, everyone around her was tense. She suddenly felt out of place, standing around SWAT guys, special operations guys, and military guys.

"Now, do I make myself clear?" Paul demanded, and after everyone nodded in stunned silence, he gave a half-smile. "Good. My preface is something that shouldn't be much of a surprise: we're here; we've made an oath to protect and serve. And that's what we plan to do. Remember that because things may get a bit ugly…" He shrugged. "It's part of the job. It's part of being in this unit which _technically_ doesn't exist…"

Some chuckled.

Leah did often wonder about this _unit_. It didn't exist; at least, not on paper. But people knew about it: the superintendent, the mayor, maybe the governor. The FBI certainly did.

She took another sip.

"This is the last call for any naysayers," Paul announced. He seemed pleasantly surprised that no one moved. "So, about this mission, its purpose is quite simple, actually: we are going to bring down Volturi. Or at least, give them so much Hell that they'll forget about the Midwest and head back to Volterra. And we're going to do this by interrupting their main supply, starting with seizing this—" He dug into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag, holding it up high.

Leah's eyes widened.

So, did everyone else's save for Jacob's.

"Everyone in the room should know what this is: a .22 Caliber Lucerna, more commonly known as an 'Ultra-violet' or 'UV.' A bullet literally containing ultra-violet light. The moment it makes contact, light flows out of it. Think of it as a tranquilizer that can fit into your standard-issue pistol," Paul explained. "This bullet, right here, is the root out of all of the drama. Ultra-violets are considered to be one of the most valued commodities in the black market. Even more than Grade A human blood."

Leah finished her coffee and tossed it into the garbage bin. These ultra-violets were proven to be a nuisance, though she couldn't understand why the ATF wasn't solely handling it.

"So, why do we care?" Paul placed the bag on the table and began to walk around. "Because about a couple of months ago, a young college student by the name of Jessica Stanley was found gutted to death at LaPush; she was associated with the Olympic organization. A couple of weeks ago, the bodies of Sasha and Vasili Denali were found with an ultra-violet in each of their heads. A couple of weeks back, Demetri of the Volturi was found with an ultra-violet in his head and throat. And now, thanks to our friends at the ATF, we now know that the distributor comes from Transylvania, and its primary buyer is the Velasquez Cartel… and I'm sure you all know the leader of _that_ headache."

"Maria..." Leah breathed. Maria was one of the Olympic's allies, the Cullen's, to be more specific. Apparently, they had been business partners since the nineteenth century. From what Leah could remember, the Velasquez cartel wasn't in the business of selling drugs. No, they were big on arms and human blood.

" _Yep_ ," Jacob whispered.

"And just last week, sixteen corpses were discovered in an abandoned warehouse up north," Paul carried on. "All associates of various criminal organizations including the James Gang— as you can tell, this is a big deal. And because this is a big deal, we will be working side-by-side with the feds."

* * *

"Are you absorbing the Dahlia case?" Leah asked, leaning against the brick wall of the precinct. It had been ten minutes after Paul's speech and a couple after the detectives had pulled the captain aside before any other cop could get a hold of him with their questions.

"Got no other choice," Paul said. "Why do you think I've been so adamant about you two tagging along? The one thing that's connecting all of these cases is that damn bullet. Didn't your girl deal with them?"

"We have reasons to believe so," Jacob replied. "And the Velasquez cartel is friendly with the Olympic coven, which includes the Cullen's…"

"That Jessica allegedly worked for," Paul added. "I have reasons to believe that Maria's people introduced those bullets to them, and somehow the others got a hand on it."

"Shit."

"Any progress on the injunction?" Paul asked.

"Not really," Leah admitted. "Jenks is trying to pull some strings, but Sorio's a stubborn bastard. He isn't going to budge come hell or high water."

"And that's what is going to get that man in trouble," Paul said. "The feds are already looking into him. That injunction-move hasn't helped his case. He'll get what's coming to him eventually."

* * *

This mission. This new task force, Leah knew it was truly about, what it truly involved, and she didn't know if she could handle it. She was still reeling over the Dahlia case and the slaughterhouse crime scene. She was still learning about the supernatural and the intricacies of the notorious Deal—she didn't think she was what Paul needed.

It wouldn't be her first time being assigned to a task force, but it had been years since she had been assigned to a specialized mission. Years ago, back in the Special Victim's Unit. Where she eventually had to transfer out of it because she couldn't stomach working on those heinous child and sex crimes for the rest of her career. The mission had been successful— two of the assailants, dead. Ten children rescued, but it had resulted in Leah nearly having a breakdown.

Her captain might have told her she had done a fantastic job, but to this day, Leah was convinced that he had only said that out of "kindness." She often wondered about that, whether he had been honest or not. Not that it mattered now. He was dead, had been dead for quite some time—a small plane crash into Lake Michigan.

Leah's doubts, her hesitation and her self-conscious made her second-guess everything, held her back. _It's your biggest weakness_ , Sam had told her far too many times. Leah supposed he was right, but what he and Paul and her former captain had to understand was that she was simply a homicide detective. Not a member of a goddamn SWAT team. If she wanted all of this action, she would have transferred to the gang or drug units years ago.

Leah shook her head as she bee-lined across the open office space and towards Paul's office. She was going to back out of the mission, she decided, ignoring some of the curious glances from each cop she passed.

Jacob, thankfully, was too engrossed in his conversation with Jared, Embry, and Aisha to notice her. She prayed he wouldn't pick up her intentions somehow; she didn't need him or anyone else to talk her out of leaving.

She had a plan, and she was going to stick to it whether or not—

Leah's train of thought stopped along with her movement. She stood in place, trying her best not to glance to her right where Sam was leaning against a column, engaging in a poorly-hushed conversation with another cop. _UC_ was what Leah had heard.

"UC" stood for undercover.

"One more week," Sam was saying. He seemed relaxed, yet worried— a strange expression that worked. "And then, I start."

"For how long, again?"

"If everything works out, three months tops."

Leah shut her eyes and took a deep breath before going on her way. She had to remain calm, sure that she wouldn't march up to her husband and make a scene. Undercover? Sam hadn't mentioned anything to her about going undercover.

She eventually caught up to Paul as he was about to leave. It was approaching lunch time, which the captain (as well as Jacob) took very seriously. She could tell that he wanted to postpone this meeting, but then he took another look at her, sighed and turned back around, tossing his jacket to the side. After motioning Leah to get in a chair, he sat down himself and waved away all apologies from the detective.

She didn't know how to begin. Maybe she couldn't remember; she distinctly recalled practicing her words during her belief walk from one side to the other. Maybe it was Sam's revelation that made her lose her step—She peered through the large door window to find her husband chatting away. She diverted her attention when his eyes accidentally met with his.

She didn't want to think of what Sam's gaze conveyed.

"I won't be long," Leah said. "I'd like to thank you for inviting me to join this task force, but after some deliberation, I don't think this mission is for me."

Paul's gaze remained steady as he leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his pointer finger and thumb. "And why not?"

"From what you've said: this is a special ops mission—"

"And?"

"I don't do special ops missions."

"Because you've never done one before?" Paul asked. "Or because you don't want to?"

Leah's eyes dropped to the carpeted floor. "I don't think I am the right person for this."

Paul made a noise and sat up. He folded his hands on his desk and said, "Leah, you wouldn't be here if I didn't think you can handle it."

"And what makes you think that I can?" Leah challenged. In the back of her mind, she knew she would probably be able to "handle it." She had been "handling it" for the past couple of months.

"And what makes you think that you're aren't?"

Leah let out a frustrated sigh. "It's just that…" She trailed off when she glanced out through the office window. Sam was still there, still talking. And she decided to switch to another topic. "I was told that Sam is going UC. Is that true?"

Paul blinked. "He didn't tell you?"

"I heard it through the grapevine."

"Huh, I thought he would—" Paul stopped, and then, "Yeah, I put him on. He knows how they operate. This isn't his first rodeo, and I needed someone who wouldn't shit in their pants the moment they laid eyes on a vampire or any other supernatural being, for that matter."

"He's human," Leah pointed out. "What if—"

"He volunteered."

And her husband didn't tell her.

This revelation admittedly hurt Leah. Going undercover was never an easy feat. He could have told her something, even if it was only the partial truth—she would be able to take it; she knew how vital secrecy was to these missions. She wouldn't demand much from him, only that he came out of the mission alive and in one piece.

For once in her life, in her marriage, she wanted Sam to be honest with her. _To talk to her_. In her humble opinion, she was easy to talk to. She was never one to judge, always willing to listen to other people's words and problems. Look at Jacob—since becoming partners, he had practically spilled his entire heart out to her. But her husband wouldn't tell her a damn thing…

She wondered if Emily knew—she mentally shook her head. No, Sam wouldn't be that stupid. Emily couldn't hold a secret if her life depended on it (except for romantic affairs, apparently).

Leah tried not to convey hurt; after a few attempts, she just gave up. She was sure Paul had noticed, but thankfully, the captain never mentioned it. "Did he tell you why he wanted to volunteer?" she asked calmly.

It was a rhetorical question. Of course, Sam had told Paul. The man practically told Paul everything. And she wasn't too upset about it, upset with _Paul_. She never wanted to be in the captain's position, stuck between two friends. Both of which he was extremely loyal to; it was just too much pressure.

Paul glanced up at the detective. He didn't want to talk about it, Leah knew it, but he probably figured it was just best to be honest. "Look, Leah, I'm not saying this because of my job. I'm staying this as a friend. And I know this ain't gonna mean shit to you." He sighed, and then, "But Sam... Sam's a good guy. He just makes really stupid decisions when he's, you know, put in the corner," and then before Leah lashed out on him. "Now, I'm not blaming you for anything. I mean, what he did; that was fucked up—"

"What are you trying to say?" Leah challenged, eyeing the captain.

"He said it would be best to have some space," Paul said.

Leah cleared her throat. The captain hadn't mentioned her, but he honestly didn't have to. She didn't get it, what space did he need from her? They hadn't shared the same bed in a couple of months. Hell, they hadn't even shared the same apartment. "Did he mention me?"

"He didn't have to," Paul said. "Look, I ain't a marriage counselor, but maybe some separation may do you both some good. I couldn't say no to his request, which, stemming from our earlier conversation, is why I promise you, you're not going to do anything covert-related. Besides the fact that I know your personal feelings about it, having both spouses doing UC work is too... complicated."

"We're getting a divorce."

"Divorces in this state don't happen overnight," Paul contested with a stubborn glint in his eye. "You're still his wife, and the higher-ups will have my ass if I put you both on UC."

"Paul—"

Paul leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. "Why don't you just try it out?" He suggested. "See how it goes. If you like it, stay. And if you don't, go. I won't hold it against you, I promise."

"Let me mull over it?"

"You got until the end of the day."

* * *

Leah told Jacob about an hour later.

They were both leaning against Jacob's car, facing the precinct building while eating their lunch. Just simple sandwiches—a meat monstrosity for Jacob. A tuna fish for Leah; it was extremely windy outside, but neither detective cared. For once, the sun was out.

Jacob seemed extremely surprised by the news (and a bit disappointed, though Leah knew he wouldn't express this in front of her face). "Are you worried about fucking up?"

"It's not that… it's just." Leah's shoulders dropped as she let out a defeated sigh, staring down at her sandwich. Suddenly, she didn't know why she was feeling. "I don't know…"

"From what I've been told, not much is going to change in terms of your jobs," Jacob told his partner. "I mean, yes, we're going to have another supervisor, but it's not permanent, and _it's Paul_. He won't fuck us over."

Leah knew Jacob was right, but, "You're not worried about this?"

"Not more than I usually am," Jacob replied with a nonchalant shrug. "This job is inherently dangerous. It is what it is. Our focus is the Dahlia case; it always has been, and that's what we're gonna do."

"What if that changes?" Leah asked, reaching behind her to retrieve her iced tea off the hood of the car. "We're not even working together."

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal, the decision to split up. They had only been partners for not even three months. Leah had done many assignments on her own either literally or figuratively (usually after butting heads with uncompromising partners), but for some reason, the thought of working with someone either than Jacob… it was just… she didn't know how to explain it.

It wasn't something she looked forward to.

Not that she would tell anyone that. Not even Paul, who was even more open to her requests than her own usually compromising captain at Violent Crimes—it was just. She didn't know. _Weird_.

Maybe it was because of who they were after the supernatural. Mostly vampires, but also actual werewolves and the occasional shapeshifter. She hadn't mind dealing with them daily because she knew… She knew Jacob would be able to handle all of them. From Alistair to Riley to that also he had shot at the warehouse. To see the work done by the Children of the Moon at the slaughterhouse. When he was there, when he had been there, Leah hadn't feared for her life—

She snorted. This was some bullshit. The level of co-dependency was some bullshit. He would probably laugh at her face if she told them this—No, he wouldn't. And damn it, that was the problem. And it wasn't co-dependence or some foolishness like, she decided, it wasn't her fault she hadn't known about the existence of the supernatural until _two months ago_.

Goodness, she felt like a fucking coward.

"We're working towards the same goal," Jacob reminded Leah, watching her intently.

"But it's like… Paul's unit doesn't exist, and there's a reason for that," Leah quietly said. "It's like some under the table shit is going on, and I don't think I can handle it."

"Did you tell Paul this?"

"He insisted I'd be fine."

"Look, I know Paul's _Paul_ , but he ain't dumb," Jacob said. "He wouldn't even entertain the idea of inviting you to this taskforce if he didn't think you could handle it."

"Oh, come on, did you not see those guys in there?"

"Have you looked at _yourself_?"

Leah tried not to falter under her partner's gaze. Instead, she took a bite out of her sandwich and washed it down with her iced tea. "Yeah, but…"

Jacob sighed loudly before crumbling his lunch's wrapping paper into a ball and tossing it into the garbage a few feet away from the car. "So, what is this really about?"

"What?"

"What is this _really_ about?"

She stared at Jacob. He stared at her back, waiting. He wasn't going to let her not answer the question. He was persistent like that, always looking at her like he could read her mind; she was starting not to like that quality about him. She wished he could just let things go. But then again, she had been the one to mention her decision to drop out of the task force.

"I'm tired of changing partner on a whim," Leah admitted without much thought. She figured if she had allowed her mind to wander, she would have come up with a bullshit excuse that would leave both her and Jacob frustrated. "And Sam—" and then Leah immediately cursed because she couldn't be thinking of Sam and his fucking welfare; he had hurt her. "It's just that…"

"What happened to Sam?"

"He's going undercover."

"Ah," Jacob said, nodding. His response wasn't much in the literal sense, but that "ah" sounded like Leah's simple statement had just answered all of his questions. He took a gulp of his Red Bull and replied, "That explains why you're put on desk duty…"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Non-action duty, then?"

"Yeah, I guess," Leah muttered. "I gotta think of something. A part of me wants to do this because I know, maybe, perhaps it would make a difference down the line. But…" she sighed. "Paul gave me until the end of the day. What do you think I should do?"

"It's not my decision to make."

"I didn't make a decision for me, Leah argued. What she needed to hear was something concrete. She was just _tired_ overthinking everything. "I asked for your opinion."

"Leah…"

Leah raised an eyebrow, "Well?"

"You're about worried being alone again, right? Working with people you've never worked with. People who, for some reason, don't think much of it—which is bullshit by the way." Jacob gave her a pointed look, just in case Leah wanted to contest anything he had just said. Thankfully she remained quiet. He continued, "So, how about a compromise? You stay onboard and work with Embry and me."

"But Paul said—"

"Fuck what he said."

* * *

"So, you've heard the news about Sam, huh?"

Leah slowly nodded as she accepted her coffee from Aisha. They were outside of a Starbucks in Rogers Park, sitting out in the sitting area during the early evening hours. There were the only one there that afternoon, save for an elderly couple playing chess on the other side; they weren't paying the detectives any mind. "I assume you knew as well?"

"Paul told me," Aisha said. "I'm his point of contact. I would've told you, but I thought Sam would at least—"

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Leah whispered, taking a sip of her coffee. "Oh, and thanks for the coffee."

"No problem. Like our fearless leader said: we all gonna need some caffeine until the end of the year, at least."

"You think this is going to last this long?"

"At the rate this mess is going, we'd be lucky if this ends by Christmas time," Aisha said, forlorn but not surprised. She must have been briefed about the task force weeks ago. "I heard from Paul that you're thinking about dropping out."

"I did."

"And?"

"My asshole of a partner could be very persuasive when he wants to be."

Aisha let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, that's Jacob for you. So, you're staying on board?"

"I gotta tell Paul by the end of the day. Actually, in a couple of hours," Leah said, glancing out the busy street that was Sheridan Ave. She could see many college students walking out of the Loyola campus... Goodness, they looked so young. Like babies. She then returned her attention to her friend. "I guess I'm staying on board."

"What was your hesitation?" Aisha asked, and then, " _Oh_. You're thinking about that..."

Leah didn't bother denying it. "That mission messed me up. I'm tired of switching partners…"

"That mission messed everyone up," Aisha reminded her friend. "If it gives you any consolation, I'm pretty sure we won't have to deal with kids this time around."

"Bree was only sixteen," Leah muttered. "And the Denali baby?"

Aisha cleared her throat before taking a drink. "Okay, you got me there. But... at least, they were vampires?"

"They were still kids."

"Yeah, you're right." Aisha let out a sigh. "You didn't see anyone after that? We were all recommended to see a therapist."

Leah snorted. She had been right. Her captain had offered the suggestion, but Leah had been convinced that she would be fine. She hadn't needed to spill her guts and feelings to someone who was getting paid to not at every thought or shit. "I should've," she quietly admitted.

"Yeah, you should have," Aisha said, taking another sip. Her body language told the detective that she wasn't getting judged, just told the truth. Leah had always liked that about Aisha.

"You did?"

"Every Thursday for three months."

"And?"

"The best decision I've made in a while," Aisha declared. "I know it's not the sexiest thing to do. After all, we're cops. We should be able to handle anything that's thrown our way, but there's something about seeing kids get hurt that always make me hate the world."

"At least we know you're not a psychopath," Leah said with a small smile.

Aisha let out a chuckle. "That's a good thing." She nodded. "And the same to you."

"Thanks."

Silence fell between the friends.

"Sam will be fine," Aisha assured her friend sometime later. Leah hadn't brought the subject on her husband up in a bit, but Aisha knew her friend was worried. "Talk to him about it, will you? I know speaking to him has been like speaking to a brick wall lately, but I'm sure he'll explain to you _why_ he kept this mission from you."

* * *

"You want _her_ to work with _you_?

Jacob sat up in his seat and straightened up his suit jacket. It was around 7:00 pm, past the end of the detective's shift. But they could claim some overtime if their captain threw a fit about it; after all, their work was related to work. "Of course," he said, locking eyes with Paul. "She's my partner."

"You're kidding."

Leah looked between Jacob and Paul and raised an eyebrow. "I don't see the big deal—"

"C'mon, Paul, she'll be fine," Jacob insisted. "If the events from the past couple of weeks hadn't scared her away, what makes you think she'll be scared now?"

Leah waited for Paul's response. Paul had told her the same thing, which was why she was a bit confused about the captain's reluctance. She didn't know what Jacob (and Embry) was assigned it, but she had a feeling it wasn't "desk duty." It wasn't what Paul had initially wanted her to do, which was following a bunch of leads— a low impact job.

Paul gave the detective an exasperated look. "Jacob…"

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," Leah insisted.

Paul blinked, taken aback. "But you said you didn't want to—"

"You said I could mull it over," Leah pointed out, glancing at her partner. She caught his small smile. "I did, and I changed my mind."

"She changed her mind," Jacob reinforced with a nonchalant shrug.

"Do you even know what they're doing?" Paul asked Leah.

"No..."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "It's _surveillance_ , Paul, not a raid."

Leah blinked. That was what Paul was hesitant about? Surveillance. She knew surveillance; she couldn't even count how many times she had done surveillance. Everyone did surveillance, and she couldn't understand why Paul had made it seem that it was something special. "On whom?"

"The Volturi," Paul said. "And Victoria and Maria."

"Oh," Leah simply replied, and then. "Should we be concerned?"

"They don't just like us," Jacob said flippantly. "And they're known for being hostile to us. Unlike the Cullen's."

"Unlike the Cullen's," Paul grumbled.

"So why Jacob and Embry?" Leah asked. "Out of everyone else?"

"Because they..."

Paul jumped in. "Long story short: there's kinda an understanding between vampires, and well..."

"Werewolves," Leah finished.

"Shapeshifters," Jacob corrected.

"Right," Leah muttered, and then, "Wait, Paul, are you concerned because I'm just a human?"

Jacob made a sound.

Paul rolled his eyes and brushed off Leah's accusation. "Don't say it like that..."

"So, _it's true_ ," Leah argued.

"Look…" It was evident that Paul didn't want to expand on that conversation. Instead, he rolled his eyes once again, sat up in his seat once again, folded his hands on the desk, and sighed _once again_. "Jacob, if she gets killed, your ass is done."

"Understood," Jacob said, stealing a glance at his partner who was still not entirely sure what was going on. "I won't let anything happen to her."

* * *

Leah confronted her husband the following night when he finally returned from work and entered their apartment. He wouldn't be there for very long, only picking some things before he left for the night- it was an arrangement the couple set up about a week back, and it seemed to be working. Leah didn't want to ask, but she was pretty sure Sam was staying at Emily's.

"So, when were you going to tell me about your undercover assignment?" Leah asked, leaning against her bedroom door frame, watching her husband with her arms crossed. He was packing for a few days, it seemed.

Sam zipped up his duffle bag and looked up, startled. "How did you—"

"Paul told me," Leah said. "Well?"

Sam slung the bag over his shoulder and ran a hand over his short hair. His attention fell on his wife, honestly apologetic. An expression Leah hadn't seen on his face in a very long time. "I didn't think you'd want to know."

Leah blinked at her husband. "UC assignments are serious business," she said. "Of course, I'd want to know." She loosened her stance. "When do you start?"

"Next week."

Leah sighed, dropping her gaze. "So soon?"

"UC doesn't wait for anyone—"

Leah looked up. "Does Emily know?"

"Emily isn't my wife."

Leah fucking _knew_ that. She wanted to scream that she knew that despite what Emily wanted... what she most likely dreamed of. Leah was still his wife— She shook her head. "But she's your girl," she said; it made her sick to say it, to verbally admit that Sam was now Emily's, and Emily was now Sam's. "You should tell her so she wouldn't get worried." She cleared her throat. "For how long?"

"Emily isn't—" Sam stopped and let out a frustrated groan. "Three months, at the least."

"Is this a part of Paul's plan?"

"Task force," Sam corrected, and then, "Yes."

"And you're okay with this?"

"It's not like I have any other choice. I volunteered, and now I have to keep my word," Sam grumbled. "Are you?"

Leah honestly didn't know. With Sam being gone, she actually might have some peace to herself. But then again, she wouldn't. Undercover missions were dangerous; people had died. And as much as she hated the man in front of her, she didn't want him to die on the job. She cleared her throat, "I'm fine, but you should check on Emily."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because she's carrying your child," Leah reminded him, slowly, carefully. She wanted Sam to know that his frustration shouldn't be directed at her. That it was his fault that his wife _had_ to speak about Emily. If he didn't want this to happen, he should have abided by his vows.

Was she bitter? She had every right to be. UC mission was a sensitive topic, that why it was called "undercover." A candidate wasn't supposed to talk about it, especially to people outside of the workplace. This conversation was supposed to be between Sam and Leah because Leah was his wife; she had every right to know why her husband planned to go dark for the next few months.

Not his mistress.

* * *

He called her later that night.

Leah considered ignoring the ringtone. She wanted to crush her ears with the sides of her pillow and go back to sleep. But the ringing wouldn't _stop_. The ringing wouldn't stop. Groaning, Leah rose from her couch and glanced at the cable box under the television, displaying the time in bright red numbers—1:42 am.

 _You've got be kidding_ _me…_

She had two options: silence her phone or just pick it up. She figured it must be a serious call.

Everyone knew Leah didn't take late night calls unless there was an emergency.

She checked the caller ID and cursed.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Leah spent the next second or two seriously debating whether or not she could pick it up or passive-aggressively tell her husband to burn in Hell.

"Someone better be dying."

"I did..." Sam breathed out.

Leah blinked a couple of times, suddenly awake by Sam's alarming yet confusing words. "What?"

"I was on the mission... sometime in the summer. I know it was the summer, but it had just rained, and I couldn't help but think about how fucking humid it was. I had to have been in the Northside because I could see planes coming in from over the lake to land...It was night, in an alley, and a group of guys surrounded me. I had my piece on the side, but I couldn't bring any of them done, and then I got hit from the back. I fell and... all I heard was Volturi, Olympic, war... and that was it."

"You had a dream..." Leah quietly repeated. She was a bit taken aback; Sam had never been the one to talk about his dreams or nightmares.

"A nightmare."

Whatever this was; it must be eating him alive, and although she hated to admit it, she felt for the felt. Damn it. He didn't deserve his sympathy. If he wanted someone to talk to or comfort him, then he should have gone to Emily...

But she continued to stay on the line because deep inside, she knew she still cared for her husband. There had to be a reason why he called her, and she didn't want him to do anything he would regret because of a nightmare because he hadn't been able to speak to anyone. Because his wife ignored him.

She hated the hold the man still had on her.

"It felt so real."

Leah closed her eyes and let out a soft side. Wow, that nightmare must have shaken Sam to the core. But it most likely didn't mean anything. She had dreams like this. Dreams of getting shot. Dreams of getting killed by an assailant. Plane crashes. Car crashes. Losing her job over some bullshit technicality. Making mistakes on the job. Making mistakes in her private life—but she was still alive and well. Those nightmares had come to mind because she had just been subconsciously thinking about them. It happened to everyone.

"You'll be fine," Leah promised. "It's just a horrible nightmare. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"C'mon Sam, this isn't your first time going undercover. You've done drug rings, for heaven's sake. You'll be fine just like before," Leah said. "But if you're so pessimistic, why did you take up on the offer?"

Paul hadn't asked him outright. Sam had volunteered.

"Because I was just going my job," Sam said, sounding a little defensive. "And I know more about those groups than most of the people on the task force." He sighed. "I know this isn't my first time..."

* * *

Sam accepted the assignment.

Leah wasn't surprised. Sam always had a hard time saying, "No." Whether it involved work or women, who weren't his wife.


	16. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

* * *

Leah hadn't interacted with Emily since her cousin's wedding.

It was better that way.

With Emily out of her mind, she could breathe with the hope that one day, she would be free of her cousin. And maybe even Sam— oh, who she was kidding? Sam would always have a place in her psyche whether he was here or fuck-knows-where.

"That's perfectly normal," Aisha would tell her a few days after Sam had officially dropped off the place of the planet. All Leah knew was that he was in the Midwest. "No matter what's happened between you two, he's still your husband."

"And I still love him," Leah quietly admitted, feeling so ashamed, so duped. _Pathetic_.

One would think that after Sam's various stunts, Leah would despise the man. She hated him and his actions and his apparent inability to take her feelings into account, but she had dedicated seven long years to this man. She couldn't just flick him off her shoulder.

At least, not now.

"Of course, you love him, my dear," Sue would tell her daughter a couple of days after that, during their newly Saturday morning breakfast. Thankfully, Seth had decided to run off his "crew of baby nerds", as Leah would call them, and therefore wouldn't be in his mother's or sister's presence for quite some time. "Getting a divorce is a smart move, but no one said it was going to be easy, especially in regards to your feelings." She paused to sip some of her tea. "Have you begun the process?"

"We've only talked about it."

"That's what you said at the wedding."

"And nothing's changed," Leah mumbled as she played with her scrambled eggs. Her appetite was shot; it had been for quite some time. "He's gonna be away for a while. It wouldn't be right start anything when I can't even talk to him."

Sue nodded in understanding. "Ah, it's one of those assignments." She took another sip of her hot drink. "Like you used to do. Like your father used to do." She shook her head. "I had never liked those assignments..."

"No one does," Leah pointed out. "But it's a necessary evil."

"Emily's been asking about him nonstop. Not to me, of course. But to everyone else, even Seth... that poor boy," Sue remarked, staring aimlessly out of the kitchen window, though based on her grimace, she instantly regretted it. She cleared her throat and finished her tea. "I'm sorry—"

"No, it's fine," Leah insisted.

Because it _was going_ to be fine. Leah was confident that she would reach a point in her life when she wouldn't cringe at the sound of Sam and Emily's name, especially when it involved each other.

* * *

Two weeks passed, and it still wasn't fine.

"Sam's good and well," Aisha had promised her the night before. "Doing good work as usual."

Leah had trembled at the sound of her husband's name, but she had quickly composed herself. To a point where she hadn't provided Aisha a reason to drop everything and rush to her aid. "Thank you," she had said in the best-leveled voice she could muster. "Have a good night."

* * *

Emily decided to visit on a Sunday.

It had taken Leah all of her might not to slam the door in the woman's face, and threaten her with an arrest or a restraining order. Eventually, common sense had ruled out any desire to make a scene resulting in Leah just standing there, holding the door open, and watching her cousin through an impassive gaze.

Emily had less than a minute to state her case for being here. She might not have known about it, but Leah didn't give a damn.

On instinct, she glanced down, and her heart skipped a beat. There it was. Proof. A clear reminder of what she had always wanted, only to be denied countless times and relinquished to another, in her opinion, more undeserving person— Emily's pregnancy was beginning to show.

 _Four or five months_ , Leah guessed.

Emily must be about four months pregnant.

If she was someone else, and Emily wasn't her cousin, Leah would have gushed about it. Asked Emily how she felt and about the possible gender of the fetus. Even talk about baby names—but now, she could only sneer in disgust.

She had promised herself ever since receiving the devastating news that she would never take her frustration out on Emily's child. The child— he or she or maybe even they—didn't deserve her wrath. She would love her baby with all of her heart. She would be the bigger person, she had told herself, but now, staring at the protruding belly, she hated it with passion.

Her eyes snapped up when the horrible thought crossed her mind, hoping and praying she would never go down that deep end ever again.

"Leah?"

Leah's gaze hardened. She hated that voice. That sweet, innocent voice that belonged to a woman she had once considered to be her "sister." A voice that carried so much—she couldn't _describe_ it— that she wanted to scream. She wanted to lunge at her cousin and strangle her. But that damn baby; it didn't deserve Leah's murderous attention.

Instead, Leah reminded herself that she ought to be the bigger person and even for a short while, entertain Emily's presence. Just to see what bullshit she wanted to spew out today. "What do you want, Emily?'

"I want to know where Sam is."

Leah's eyes narrowed. _What nerve_ , she couldn't help but think. What nerve, what audacity her cousin had to walk up to her apartment and demand for where _Leah's_ husband was. "Leave."

Emily visibly flinched, but soon regained her composure. She forced out a smile as if she wanted to believe that everything was relatively normal between her and the other woman. But when she finally gained enough courage to look into the eyes of her cousin, she knew there was no going back. She blinked, cleared her thought, and glanced down both sides of the hallway, aimlessly. As if she was taking a break to gather the right worse that wouldn't result in the door being slammed into her face.

"It's been three weeks," Emily carefully said. Her gaze wisely dropped to the carpeted hallway floor. "I just want to make sure he's okay," she said, as she, perhaps unconsciously, began to rub her stomach. "It's not like him to be..."

Leah's gaze relaxed when the realization came to her. _He didn't tell her_ , she concluded, the bastard didn't inform the mother of his child that he was dropping off the face of the earth until, at the earliest, the end of the year. She couldn't believe this. It was as if the man was allergic to communicating with his _supposedly_ loved ones.

"Working," Leah replied.

"But he'd usually call me—"

Leah rolled her eyes. " _He's working_. He's going to be gone for quite a while, but he's fine."

Emily seemed relieved by her cousin's words, but only for a moment. Her expression soon shifted into sadness and annoyance. "But why didn't he tell me?"

 _Because she's not my wife_ , Leah recalled her husband telling her. She supposed that was one of the aspects of their marriage he still held on to. But— she didn't know what to say or do. The wise thing was to keep her mouth shut; Emily wasn't considered immediate family or a dependent. But then again, she was carrying Sam's child. She had spent more intimate time with Sam in the last three years than Leah had.

Unfortunately for Leah, there wasn't a section in the police manual designated for handling pregnant mistresses.

* * *

It was the day after Emily's unplanned visit to her apartment, and the conversation still irked Leah. "She's freaking out, and it's driving me up the wall."

"I thought you weren't talking to her anymore?" Paul asked, handing Leah a piece of his bagel.

Leah quietly thanked the captain before biting off a piece. It was closer to eight in the morning, and while she was waiting for Jacob to get out of the usual morning traffic, she was sharing breakfast and words with Paul. He didn't seem to mind, especially once Leah promised him to lunch later.

"She dropped by unexpectantly," Leah said before washing down her food with coffee— extra light and sweet to calm her nerves. "She was asking for Sam."

"It's not your responsibility to tell her a goddamn thing."

Leah sighed. "I know that... but it's not about work. It's not _just_ about work. She's not just some coworker. She's my cousin. My husband's girlfriend. She's _carrying_ my second cousin, for goodness' sakes."

"Leah, no offense, but if she could disregard your feelings for the past few years, then you can do the same for the next few months."

* * *

Leah ended up making up a lie.

It wasn't a lie, per se; more like an embellished truth. And anyway, Emily should be grateful that her loyal cousin had gone to such lengths on her behalf. Leah could have ignored Emily and make her suffer—her mother would have appreciated it—but her conscious, as usual, had gotten the best out of her.

And now, here she was. On a Saturday morning where she would be sleeping in after a grueling week at her work but instead standing in the driveway of Emily's small home, providing the pregnant woman a bullshit excuse about Sam's absence.

"He's out of the country on assignment," Leah told Emily. "He's going to be off the grid for some time. Like a ghost, but like I said last time: he's fine."

Emily wasn't satisfied with her cousin's words. "And how would you know?" she bit out. "You haven't had a meaningful conversation with him in _months_."

Leah wasn't going to entertain Emily with her own vicious words.

"If anything happens, I'll let you know," she told her cousin calmy. "Until then, don't you ever drop by my house again."

* * *

Emily had gotten the point.

 _Thank every deity under the sun_ , Leah thought.

Now, she could place her entire focus on her job without her cousin's nagging voice in her ear.

* * *

Being a part of the surveillance team wasn't the sexiest aspect of Paul's taskforce. It wasn't the gun-blazing, door-ramming, badge flashing kind of a team. It was just that: surveilling, spying, looking over people's shoulders without the targets finding out. Doing a lot of waiting and a lot of hoping to catch something good.

"It's like fishing," Jacob told her during the first day on the new assignment. "Just with criminals."

Although Paul hadn't put it into stone, it was heavily implied that Jacob was in charge of the three-person "surveillance" team, and Leah was perfectly fine with that. He was the one who had the most knowledge about just what the hell they were getting themselves into. Embry had unofficially declared himself as the detectives' back-up, and according to him, he wouldn't want to change his position for the world.

"There's too much action going on around here to be in charge of anything," Embry told Leah. "Right now, I'm a follower, not a leader."

Leah wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Leah had been unofficially transferred to the Unit that shall not be Named (also now jokingly known as the Voldemort Unit).

She was currently sitting inside a surveillance van, parked on the street curb opposite of Mike's bar. An actual inconspicuous van for once. It wasn't the usual white-oh-so-obvious van. It was navy, and she was impressed.

She had been alone in the vehicle for about twenty minutes as Embry ran out for a quick lunch. Jacob was sitting up top of one of the mid-sized buildings to get a better view of a conversation happening on the fifth floor located about a block from Mike's place. She was adjusting her camera when she heard a knock on the van's back window.

Finally, food.

Leah quickly opened the door, and Embry climbed right in, closing the door behind in using one hand while carrying two bags of fast food from a burger place in another.

"No salad?" Leah asked, cringing at the sight of the food. She loved fast food, but it was a horrible thing to consume for someone who would essentially be a sitting duck for the next few months.

"Who eats a salad on a stakeout?" Embry asked, offended. "Salad is the devil."

"You're _just_ like Jacob," Leah snatched the bag and mumbled thanks as she opened it. Goodness, the hot fries smelled so good.

"One order of veggie burger and fries ain't gonna kill you," Embry insisted, playfully rolling his eyes as he sat next to Leah. "You'll be fine."

"I don't have wolf-metabolism, _thank you_ ," Leah reminded the man, removing the foil from her burger. It took her a moment to realize what she had said just said. She quickly adjusted. "All jokes aside, thank you."

"No problema," Embry said, and then, "So, you know about... you know."

"Subtlety is not a strength of yours."

"So, I've been told..." Embry trailed off and shrugged. "Oh, okay. Well, that's good. Save me from having that inevitable awkward conversation..." He leaned in a bit and whispered, "So, uh, you don't mind?"

"Jacob told me about himself like a week after becoming my partner," Leah said before devouring some fries. "If I had a problem with you guys, I wouldn't be here."

"Nice to know." Embry nodded, and then, "Wait, he told you that soon? That's weird. He's usually quiet about that stuff."

Leah shrugged. "He said it wasn't a big deal, so it's not going to be a big deal."

"Sounds good to me."

"I have a personal question if you don't mind."

"Shoot."

"Were you born with it?"

"Yeah."

She wanted to ask about Paul but then remembered what Jacob had told her a while back. The guys, they needed to reveal themselves on their own time and their own terms. "Oh, nice to know."

"Yeah."

Leah then glanced at her screen, showing the front of Mike's Lounge from an angle. At her far right, she could see Jane of the Volturi walking out of Mike's with her usual passive expression. Mike was a few yards behind the woman, looking as grim as ever. "That girl is like... sixteen."

"Technically, eighteen," Embry corrected. "That was her age when she had turned. Apparently. But don't let the looks fool you, she's bat-shit."

"Like Victoria?"

"Nah, different," Embry said. "See, Victoria _looks_ crazy. Jane, over there, just looks like a high-schooler trying to be a goth. It's scarier."

"Hm..." Leah reached for her burger. "Is this pertinent information? Should we save it?"

"Aren't you the official detective?"

"Well, considering you know more about vampires than I'll ever know, I'll give you some authority. This time. Only temporarily."

"Oh, I can't wait to tell Jacob this..."

"Shut up, and answer my question."

"Nah, we don't have to include it. Jane's been scaring the shit outta Mike for years."

"Hm," Leah said as she watched Jane entered her car. "Interesting."

"You know what's more interesting? Word on the street is that they're dropping the Denali case," Embry said. "At least until the dust settles. But Jenks still wants to go after someone about the missing bodies. You can't steal bodies from a morgue and get away with that."

"It'd be a lesser charge than double-homicide," Leah argued, reaching for her fries again. "You'd think after all this time those fools would understand that they have a better shot walking away if they worked with us rather than with the feds."

"Yeah... well, common sense isn't used as much as we'd like."

"Got any idea who did it?"

"It's a stretch, but Yorkie may be onto something."

"Yorkie?" Leah raised an eyebrow. "As in Dr. Eric Yorkie?"

"That guy is like a goddamn supernatural-nerd. He thinks it has something to do with a covenant."

"You mean, the Deal?"

"Nah. _The covenant_ ," Embry said. "It's a set of some laws made back in like the Roman times. Made for vampires; they've been following it ever since with the most powerful coven in the world keeping track of it."

"The Volturi."

"Yep. They're like the gatekeepers, as crazy as that sounds. Anyway, making vampire babies is super against the law that usually results in capital punishment. So... my guess, or I suppose, Eric's is that Sasha made a vampire baby. The Volturi got pissed because of the covenant and decided to take matters in their own hands."

"Tanya seems like the vindictive type," Leah said. "She doesn't do well with letting things go. Why hasn't she done anything about her family's deaths?"

"I don't think they think they have much of a justification." Embry downed some of his Gatorade. "Sasha fucked up— it's kinda like with made-guys. Yeah, they're important in the mob but if they mess up—"

"They get tossed aside."

"Yeah, because suddenly, they're bad for business. No one would want to deal with that guy."

"So, Sasha and Vasili's death is going to be ruled as a murder-suicide."

"Inconclusive, according to Bella. But that case is gonna get closed sooner or later."

"Ain't that a shame."

"I guess that's life," Embry said with a shrug. "Anyway, the more important cases are the Dahlia case and the Slaughterhouse case."

"What about Demetri?" Leah asked. "Heard any word on the street about him?"

"Oh, right, I forgot about him." Embry paused. "I think we're taking that case on because of the possible connection to the Dahlia case. Didn't you and Jacob say that he was fucking around with Jessica?"

"We have reasons to believe that they were intimately involved."

"Kinda interesting that he had died weeks after she had."

"Interesting, indeed."

* * *

When she wasn't spying on people, Leah was unofficially in charge of shaking loose the stronghold that Judge Sorio had over the Dahlia case and getting some personal intel regarding the Slaughterhouse case, and Leah was perfectly fine with that, too. She figured that the only route she could take and getting through Rosalie, and possibly Riley—the man was a mystery. For someone who had just become a member of the James' Gang a couple of years back, he seemed to know a lot of things.

"What is your boss planning to do, in terms of reacting to the slaughterhouse murders?"

Leah didn't bother easing Riley in. She had texted the informant about an hour earlier, demanding his presence in a secluded area and did not plan on spending more than a few minutes with the man. The meeting had to be short and straight to the point.

Riley seemed perfectly in-tune with Leah's plan. "My boss doesn't take any shit," he said in a low voice, occasionally checking on his surroundings. He appeared more paranoid than usual, not that Leah could blame him. It was half past nine, a time that generally coincided in an uptick of coven-gang activity. Victoria's men (as well as other organizations) were roaming around the city as the detective, and her informant knew. "She doesn't let things go. She's still pissed off about James, and it's been ten years."

"I thought James was killed last year?"

"That's what they want you to think," Riley said. "He's been dead since '08. Killed off by one of the Cullen boys. Edward, I think it was."

"Got any proof?"

"You wanna bring him for that?"

"You just implicated him in a murder," Leah said.

"It's... it'd be a waste of time," Riley said. "I may not know much, but I know that. No one's looking for James except for Victoria; it wouldn't be worth it."

"Then tell me something I can arrest them for," Leah quietly demanded. She hated being in this position, knowing that she had someone, but really didn't have anything; she needed proof. And from the looks of it, the man next to her didn't have any to give her. She decided to switch gears. "Is she going after Edward?"

Riley shook his head. "Victoria hates Edward for what he did, but I guess she knew he was only doing his job. She puts most of the blame on Carlisle."

"Tell me about him."

"Who, Carlisle?" Riley dug his hand into his pockets and carried on, "Used to be a doctor. Decent man if you're not on the wrong team."

"You've met him?"

"Only a couple of times," Riley said. "He acts like he runs shit. Like run everything, but you can tell by one look at him that he's just a figurehead."

Leah tilted her head, fascinated by the man's admission. "And who is the one actually calling the shots?"

Riley shrugged. "Like I said, I've only met him a couple of times, and none of them had been present."

"Edward?" Leah offered, hopeful. Paul would have a field day if that were the case. Jenks would probably go streaking up and down Michigan Ave (but perhaps after midnight where they wouldn't be many people on the road).

Riley shook his head. "He's up there. Like second-in-command, but he ain't running the family. He's more like a leader than a follower."

Leah did her best to hide her disappointment. "What else can you tell me about him?"

Riley snorted. "What is this, twenty-one questions?"

"Why else are we keeping you around?" Leah reminded him, raising an eyebrow. She smirked at the man's pained, annoyed groans. "So?"

"Like I said: he's the second-in-command. He has like— fifteen people directly under him. He's smart, even presents himself as a gentleman or some shift, but he's a fucking asshole. Pompous asshole especially since he has a blonde bitch representing him—"

"Hey, Rosalie Hale is an accomplished defense lawyer. Just because she's damn good at her job doesn't mean she's a bitch," Leah chastised, and then, "As you were saying."

"Sorry," Riley grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I hear he's been getting disgruntled with his boss lately. I guess he's tired of cleaning up his shit."

"Shit, like what?"

"Like his girlfriends," Riley bit out. "The fact that he's using more and more humans in his operations. The fact that he's been fucking around with the goddamn ATF. Word on the street was that he had killed a few agents back on St. Patrick's."

* * *

"You know for someone who had put a bullet in his leg, he's taking quite a liking for you."

"In my defense, he _did_ shoot my partner first," Leah told Jacob later that night over the phone. "It was nothing personal."

"Oh _right_ , he did," Jacob let out a soft chuckle, and then, "Well, whatever you're doing, keep at it."

"Thank you," Leah said, smiling. She had always been a sucker for praise… and Jacob's laugh. "Oh, and about those rumors concerning St. Patrick's…"

"I'm going to tell Paul to refer that case to Team Two. They're gonna have a field day."

* * *

"You've worked with the Cullen's, right?" Leah asked Jacob and Embry the following afternoon as she adjusted her headphones. She was watching Victoria have a conversation with one of her guards, and she did not look happy. Or was speaking in English.

They were in a surveillance van parked a couple of blocks from their target: a small coffee shop in the near north side, currently hosting a disclosed meeting with the members of Victoria's gang—a meeting they had only known about because of Riley.

"They're not exactly fans of our kind..." Embry mumbled, writing down his findings in his notebook. He was surveilling a different target, located in a couple of buildings west of the coffee shop, currently holding some more of Victoria's men.

Leah nonchalantly rolled her eyes as she adjusted the volume on her laptop screen. "You know what I mean."

"I've done some cases involving them," Jacob said. "Which all fell through because of our lovely judge, but I can't say that I'm an expert."

"Carlisle Cullen, he's in charge, right?"

The men shared looks and shrugged.

"As far as we know," Embry said.

"Would you have known that if no one had told you?"

Embry glanced at Leah. "What are you getting at?"

"It's just something Riley had said..." Leah said, trailing off as she leaned closer to the screen. A new person had just arrived. "He thinks Carlisle's just the figurehead."

"So, who's running the show?" Jacob asked.

"That's what I want to know," Leah muttered. "You've never picked up on any vibes? I had asked about Edward, but Riley's convinced that he didn't want the position."

"Fascinating," Jacob whispered. "Just fascinating."

* * *

Leah was never a fan of talking people off the ledge.

Especially if that person was Jason Jenks.

"Are you sure you can't do anything about the autopsy?" She had to ask him. She had to ask him many times so he could finally comprehend the gravity of his conclusion that he was stuck. He couldn't be _stuck_. He wasn't allowed to be stuck, not with over twenty murders Paul's team had to get to the bottom of. "There's nothing you can do?"

Jenks was defeated, something he had never expressed before in front of the detective or in front of anyone. He loved portraying himself as a stubborn, unmovable mountain; it made people, even criminals and corrupt politicians alike, respect him. "I don't have any leverage," he complained. "I have nothing. Not even a goddamn scare-tactic."

"Isn't an FBI intervention a big enough scare-tactic?"

" _One would think_ ," Jenks mumbled. "I thought getting this autopsy injunction removed by doing some under the table shit. But I have nothing right now."

"Oh, come on, there has to be some tax violation or some other little crime that can bring them to us," Leah said. "Something."

"I got nothing," Jenks replied. "We don't even have anything to arrest anyone on, never mind get an indictment. Twenty murders associated with those bastards, and we don't have a damn thing."

"We can't be pessimistic."

"I'm not pessimistic," Jenks argued. "I'm being realistic."

"So, are you suggesting we give up?"

"No," Jenks sighed. "No. Just pray for something I can use as leverage."

"I'll talk to Rosalie again."

"I don't think it'll help, but you can try."

* * *

And try, Leah did.

"You have to give me something."

Leah hated begging, and she refused to allow the lawyer to think that was what she was doing. The detective maintained a steady gaze and a passive expression as she tried to talk some sense into Rosalie.

It was the second Monday in May. Two days after she had promised Jenks that she would provide him (and Paul) with some good news about the Dahlia case's progress. She couldn't come back empty handed.

"Immunity," was Rosalie's simple response.

Leah blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I can discuss some things, just as long as my client receives immunity."

"If your client receives immunity, the public is going to find out," Leah explained to Rosalie. "Everyone's going to know that your client is a rat. Even Carlisle wouldn't appreciate that."

Rosalie sighed. "Then there's nothing I can help you with."

"If you continue down this route, your client and possibly you will be sent straight to Alcatraz," Leah argued. It was a small bluff, but from the way Paul and Jenks had been cooperating begrudgingly with the feds, the arrests were indeed not out of the question.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The feds are going after everyone," Leah said. "And I mean _everyone_. I'm pretty sure your name is going to show up on an indictment one of these days."

Rosalie sat up in her seat and eyed the detective, "And you know this, how?"

"I may just be a human," Leah replied. "But I'm a human with connections. I know things."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

"And I know you're going to need my help eventually, so let's the cut the bullshit and come up with a compromise."

"You know, if you were anyone else, I wouldn't even be entertaining this idea," Rosalie said, frowning. She wasn't happy about it, but she had always been a reasonable woman with a keen knowledge of the law.

"I'm flattered," Leah said, and then, "I assure you. This conversation is under the table."

Rosalie stood up to go to her mini-fridge that was sitting on a table behind her couch. She opened it, returned an opaque pitcher, reached down before the table for the glass and began pouring the drink. It was stark-red and a little on the thick side—blood. "And how will that ensure me that a certain federal law enforcement agency doesn't make a special appearance?"

Leah looked beyond the couch. "Like I said, I have connections," she said, maintaining a straight face. Her appearance, the tone of her voice, they had to remain level. Showing no weakness, no ounce of a lie. She did have these connections, albeit shaky ones. She knew a couple of federal agents— FBI, DEA, ATF. And Aisha used to work for the ATF; she might be able to help out. All in all, in truth— she supposed, she was making a bluff, hoping that Rosalie wouldn't call her out on it.

Rosalie eyed the detective, studying her, waiting for the other woman to crack under the gaze of her amber eyes. They maintained eye contact for a bit before Rosalie broke it. She released a sigh, staring out of the window ahead of her, crossing her arms.

"He didn't have a choice," she eventually said quietly, picking up her glass and returning to the couch. "It had nothing to do with Jessica—he didn't care much for her. It had everything to do with the public. Imagine what would happen if the autopsy becomes public? She died from a bite. From a person? There would be hysteria all over."

"Then why go to Bella first?" Leah asked. She made a concerted effort not let her happiness, and her surprise was conveyed through her voice. She couldn't believe Rosalie took her for her word— but now, Leah had no choice but to pull strings. "If Edward wanted this, he could have just gone straight to Sorio."

"He didn't want to deal with him, but your coroner-friend did not give him much of a choice."

"So, he had simply let it go?" Leah asked, finding that hard to believe. Edward was in the mob; the mob just didn't let things go in that fashion. Not without an ulterior motive.

"Sometimes, people like being told, no. It reminds them of their humanity. Of the fact that not every single damn person they encounter is a pushover."

"So, he had let it go because Bella had amused him," Leah wanted to clarify, still not believing her ears. When Rosalie confirmed everything, she let out a snort, and, "You've got to be kidding me."

"I don't joke about these matters."

Leah didn't follow up on that statement. "So, in your professional opinion, how do you make this injunction go away?"

"That is for your and the Honorable Sorio to decide," Rosalie replied. "And I highly advise you strike up a deal soon. I hear the permanent injunction hearing may be coming up sooner rather than later."

"Duly noted."

Rosalie made a sound before taking a sip of her drink. "He had nothing to do with Jessica's murder."

For some reason, Leah believed the lawyer. "And what about Esme Cullen?"

"Esme?" Rosalie shook her head. "No, she had nothing to do with it."

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Because I've known Esme for decades," Rosalie said definitively. She took another sip, and, "She wouldn't do such a thing."

Something told Leah that Mrs. Cullen wasn't as innocent as Rosalie wanted her to believe, especially not after speaking with Riley. "She didn't have to deliver the final blow," she suggested. "Or rather, bite. She could've known about it."

"And have you spoken to her?"

"Briefly."

"And?"

"She made it known that any conversation with her had to be made in the presence of her lawyer," Leah admitted. "Seems a bit, you know, defensive."

"Any person in their right mind wouldn't speak to a detective without their lawyer," Rosalie rebutted. "Especially her."

* * *

"The usual?"

"The usual," Leah confirmed as she sat down at the bar. She took two deep breaths, thanking every deity under the sun that she was officially off the clock and checked her surroundings. It was after happy hour by the time she had arrived, so the crowd had died down some. Most of the patrons were staring up at the wall television's watching sports. She could see Jared Cameron in the distance laughing away at some video a friend was showing him. She made a note to say hello if he ever came her way. There were only three other people at the bar with her, all far away enough that she could hold a conversation without worrying about eavesdroppers.

"Thanks."

Leah pulled out her wallet but then returned it at the sight of Quil disapproving look. For the past few months, she had been trying to convince the bar owner to let her pay for her own before. For the past few months, he had completely disregarded her request. His excuse? He could sacrifice a couple of beers per week.

"You're not gonna fight about this?"

Leah let out a dramatic sigh. "Is there any point?"

Quil smiled as he retrieved the beer and handed it to Leah. "One beer for the lady."

"When is this ever going to end?"

"I am a man of my word, and Paul is a man of his," Quil declared, and then, "How's life?"

Leah looked up at Quil. He seemed a bit tired, overworked. Just like her. It was probably because of his patrons roaming around the place like they had no sense. Although he had three other bartenders around, he still wouldn't be able to relax for a while.

"Same old, same old," she replied. "And you?"

"Can't complain. Officially hate young professionals and frat boys, but all and all, can't complain," the bar owner said before shouting out some orders for his bartenders. When he finished, he carried on, "Haven't seen you or the guys in a while. Everything's okay?"

"You know Jared's back there."

Quil playfully rolled his eyes. "He doesn't count."

Leah smiled. Since officially being under Paul's wing, she had been seeing the man more often. He was a part of the task force, working a couple of liaisons with the ATF. All and all, a good cop, according to the captain, just needed to work on discovering a time and place for his antics.

She looked around again, looking for nothing, but ultimately stopping at the television above Quil thanks to the red "Breaking News" sign that ran across it.

It was a news report regarding a new, interesting, update on the Slaughterhouse murders. Leah could only imagine what the media had on their hands, which wasn't much because the police didn't have much. Except for the species of the victims, but the detective doubted any of the press would be that bold.

"...have confirmed that thirteen of the sixteen victims had been shot execution style before being moved..."

Leah sighed. That was information Leah had known for months. She supposed this was a testament to the public relations department at work and the federal agencies. Usually, when there was a high-prole case (like the Dahlia's), the police would actively seek out help from the media. The media relayed the information to the common man, but due to the sensitively of the subjects involved, the police was treating these cases just like the usual, run-in-the-mill gang-related cases.

Paul would be proud.

"Crazy stuff," Quil remarked, leaning against the bar, glancing up at the screen as he dried off some glasses. "I heard the Slaughterhouse case is more messed up than the Dahlia's."

"It's about the same," Leah muttered before taking a swig of her much needed a drink. "Annoyance-wise."

 _Lack of information and suspects-wise._

"Better you guys than me," Quil said. "I'm not cut out for that cop-life."

"It's not that bad..." Leah said, shrugging. Not entirely good. Not entirely bad. That was probably the most honest Leah had ever been about her career. But she supposed she could say the same thing about her life—there were always valleys and hills. Just focus on the hills, and everything would be just fine. "Honestly, the most annoying part is dealing with politics."

"So, I've heard," Quil said. "You think it's gonna get better?"

"I wouldn't be in this job if I didn't," Leah said, dropping her gaze. The media wasn't saying anything new. "If we can move past St. Patrick's, then we can move past anything."

"I'll toast to that."

"Hey, Quil."

"Yeah?"

"I got a question," Leah said. It was out of the blue, didn't necessarily have anything to do with the news report, but it was a thought that had existed in her mind for months. "If you don't mind."

"Go 'head."

"Do you get some of... you know, as your customers?"

Quil blinked, but then soon realized just whom the detective was referring to. "Oh, you mean leeches?" He thought for a moment and shook his head. "Never. I mean, not that I know of."

"Never?" Leah found that interesting. This bar wasn't marked; it wasn't known mob hang or even a cop hang out. "I'd thought with so many people being crammed in one place, inebriated by some drinks that this would be prime hunting ground."

"Even the supernatural abides by territorial agreements."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "And your bar is a part of said agreement?"

Quil's expression was unreadable. "No vamp in their right mind would come to the same bar as a bunch of wolves."


	17. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

* * *

"Are you positive that this is happening?" Leah asked, trying to ignore the cramps in her legs. She, along with Jacob and Embry, had been crouching down inside a van for the past hour, and their bodies weren't happy about it. "'Cause, you know, Mike has a history of screwing us over."

It was the late night of May 26th, the Saturday before Memorial Day, the three cops were all on the left side of the van, participating in a stake-out, parked about several blocks away from the lounge, facing the front, looking through dark, tinted windows.

Avoiding detection by their target or by party-goers (mostly drunk) rushing to and from the numerous bars in the area was a priority. The only things powered up in the van were their phones (in their pockets with the flash off) and Leah's surveillance equipment.

"Hey, man, Leah does have a point."

"Usually, I'd agree with you. But I think Paul's previous visit had scared him enough to cooperate," Jacob insisted. "Plus, if we find out he's been pulling our tails, we'll simply show up at his place with an arrest warrant. I'm sure Jenks would _love_ seeing him in a holding cell."

 _Ain't that the truth_ , Leah thought. Jenks, who was still butting heads with the Cook County Justice System about the Dahlia's ill-advised injunction, would probably find a way to demand promotions for the three detectives. The prosecutor had been after that man for years, but the club owner always found a way to have his case dismissed. Leah was pretty sure Jenks kept a master list of all of the charges he wanted to slap on him.

In a shocking turn of events, Mike had decided to reach out to the detectives the night prior, claiming he had some information that they would find interesting. It was an odd move; the lounge owner usually did everything in his power to avoid speaking with the cops.

* * *

 _"Who threatened you?"_ _Jacob had asked after writing down the details. Mike's cooperation had dumbfounded he and the rest of the team. Something must have happened._

 _"No one," Mike had insisted, feigning coolness. He hadn't been sweating bullets this time. He hadn't appeared to have been injured like the last couple of times. "I figured that eventually, you guys would ruin my night with questions, so I guess I thought it was easier to come to you."_

 _"And you're sure that they all going to be there?" Leah had asked carefully, watching the man's every move. Personally, she had thought the man was spewing bullshit._

 _Mike had stood up tall and looked straight into the detective's eyes, determined and confident. "Yes."_

* * *

Leah still found it hard to believe him.

But Paul, surprisingly, had taken the lounge owner's word for it and sanctioned the cops to survey the area with that they were not to engage in any "action" unless it was an emergency, Paul had told them. Just identify every single person who was walking in and out of that lounge— it sounded easy enough.

"There are Maria's people," Leah announced at 9:45, pleasantly surprised, as she wrote down some notes in her notepad. She knew most of the names of Maria's henchmen; she wanted to match the name with the person by taking a photo, but she was paranoid about being caught. Vampires could be extremely observant when they wanted to be.

"Truck pulling in at ten o'clock," Jacob whispered. Soon, the detectives looked on together as the vehicle stopped at the side of the bar and its crew started unloading the goods that suspiciously smelled like fresh blood. "That must be their stash. Quality human blood."

"Yum," Embry remarked sarcastically.

Leah scrunched up her nose in disgust, still not used to the fact that the only thing vampires consumed was _blood_. She watched as the crew pulled out three barrels and rolled them into the bar. "Where did they get so much blood? That had to belong to at least a hundred people. From the hospital?"

Jacob and Embry glanced at each other and shrugged. "I wouldn't trust any blood from the hospital," Jacob told his partner. "You don't know if it's tainted with hepatitis or some other shit."

Embry looked he was about to say a joke, perhaps a distasteful one, but he contained himself by choosing a different route. "They got the blood from Maria's people. They have this whole underground business just for shipping large quantities of human blood. It's fucked up."

"Why blood from humans?" Leah asked, watching as the Cullen's arrived at Mike's; all in separate cars, just like Mike had described, because the patriarch was an occasionally paranoid man. "Why not animals? Wouldn't that be easier? They could get away with it. I mean, PETA will be pissed off, but still…"

"They're already getting away with it, so why downgrade?" Jacob said. "Human blood is a delicacy— _Wait_ ," he leaned closer to the window, squinting his eyes. "Yo, Leah," he called out. "Ain't that Lauren?"

"Lauren, who?" Embry asked.

"Mallory?" Leah suggested, moving her binocular to the direction her partner was pointing at. It was her alright, strutting inside the building in a black sequin party dress and heels, an outfit similar to Jessica's when she had died. _Weird_. "What the hell is she...?"

"Should we be concerned?" Embry asked, gulping. "Who is she?"

"She's the roommate of Jessica Stanley," Leah said, still not believing her eyes. "I don't understand. How on earth does she know about _them_?"

"Maybe Jessica mentioned something to her after all," Jacob suggested. "Make a note about this. We're gonna have to little chat with her tomorrow."

"Noted," Leah said. "If I knew she was going to be here, doing _that_ , I would've made her a CI."

Jacob soon retrieved a small, white, unmarked spray bottle from his backpack and tossed it to Embry who sprayed it all over himself before tossing it back to the detective. Once Jacob doused himself, he handed over the bottle to his partner. "Hey, spray this all over you."

Leah looked down at it. "What is it?"

"It masks your scent," Embry said. "It's a pain in the ass to get, but it works."

"Is this... legal?"

"I mean, it's not sold wholesale, if that's what you're wondering," Jacob said, and then, "Don't worry. We ain't gonna get in trouble for possession or anything."

"Oh, thanks," Leah said, deadpanned, still staring at the white bottle. She didn't entirely trust it, but the other two men seemed perfectly fine. She took a sigh and began to spray the unscented substance all over her. Once done, she handed it back to her partner. "Why didn't we do this earlier?" she asked.

"We're gonna move closer," Embry replied. "Wanna see what's exactly going on in that party, and why the roommate of the Dahlia is in there."

"Exactly," Jacob confirmed. "Exactly. We're gonna be two buildings away; it'll be close enough for us to spy through the club windows," and then, "Okay, so here's the deal: we have to be quiet. Only speaking in whispers," he ordered. "If we have to communicate, we do it through text and make sure your phones on silent. Those leeches have good hearing."

Leah and Embry nodded.

"Em, I'm gonna need you to monitor the wire exclusively. We, thanks to the generosity of Jenks, have installed three main points inside the lounge," Jacob explained. "You know what to do, right?"

"Gotcha."

"And Leah," Jacob handed her a pair of headphones. "You've done surveillance before. Just keep an eye on out for everyone, especially now Lauren Mallory because she has no business attending that party."

Leah nodded. "And what are you going to do?"

"Make sure no one finds us."

* * *

The party inside Mike's Lounge was relatively uneventful. Just another suit-and-tie event with a live band, playing that music that used to bore Leah to death every time she had to attend her father's work-related events. She found Mike Newton near the bar, pacing around, keeping a careful eye out like a good lounge owner who needed to remain in the good graces of his guests should.

Leah's focus was mostly on Lauren. In terms of this investigation, she was most likely a non-factor, just a roommate of a murdered woman who also didn't have a criminal record. But the fact that Lauren was attending an invite-only party full of people who were connected to this coven-mob mess made Leah realize that perhaps this young lady should be on the police's radar.

She was roaming around the room, occasionally striking a conversation with some of the guests. She had managed to catch Mike's eye, and based on his expression, he was watching Lauren for the reason why Leah was; she didn't belong there.

"Dude, they're practically five seconds away from draining her," Embry remarked, and then asked, "Jacob, can't we just pull her out of there?"

"We can, but you're gonna have to explain to Paul why we started an incident without his approval," Jacob replied, leaning over to check out what the other two were seeing. He sighed, shook his head, and returned his attention to the other side of the street. "Just keep an eye on her."

"Will do," Leah said, making a note of an interesting eye-ping-pong contest between Mike and Lauren. It lasted for some time until Mike finally caught Lauren staring at him with an unreadable expression. He thought about calling her over—she now had an expectant look on her face—but instead, he just waved. She waved back, then went on her way. Towards Carlisle, who, for the first time tonight, was sitting at the table. Alone.

Mike sighed.

Leah did the same.

She might be not a shapeshifter with heightened senses, but she could feel Lauren's uneasiness from the van. As the young woman walked past by a table full of guests, she cringed at the sight of a couple of them licking their lips, watching her every move. Like they wanted to eat her, and they weren't the only ones.

"Why is that?" Leah asked. "Is it because of her blood?"

"Like I said," Jacob replied. "Human blood is a hot commodity." He glanced at the screen and mumbled, "I don't know why she thought it was a good idea…"

"Maybe she wanted some excitement?" Embry offered. "I hear people are into that. Like they have some vampire-fetish."

"Do you think she knows?" Leah asked.

Embry and Jacob shrugged.

* * *

"Bonsoir," Leah picked up Carlisle saying in a smooth voice. He was leaning back in a chair with a cigar in his hand, eyeing Lauren.

The young woman stopped, turned around and deeply blushed.

"Bonsoir," she quietly greeted back.

"Parlez-vous français?"

"Un peu," Lauren stammered out. She glanced at the seat next to her. "Est ce-que quelque personne utilize cette chaise?" she asked. The man shook his head "Puis-je m'asseoir?"

The man grinned. " _Bien sûr._ "

"Merci beaucoup, Monsieur…"

"Cullen," Carlisle replied, leaning forward.

Carlisle smirked upon realizing that the woman seemed to appreciate his multilingual skills. "Comment t'appelles-tu, mon sucre d'orge?"

* * *

"He has a Parisian accent," Leah remarked. "He just referred to Lauren as his 'sugarplum'."

Jacob gagged.

"What about her?" Embry asked.

"She was asking if the chair next to Carlisle was free," Leah commented, cringing at every word Lauren's made. She knew this was not the place to be criticizing someone's linguistic skills, but it made her sad the way Lauren pronounced simple words like "un peu" and "merci." She scoffed. "Her accent is atrocious."

"Snob," Embry remarked, grinning.

Leah rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

* * *

" _Lauren_..." Carlisle drawled out, nodding.

Lauren gulped as the man leaned in closer. She looked around to see if anyone was watching them; thankfully, no one was—except for, of course, the cops, unbeknownst to Lauren and the rest of the guests.

"Lauren, what do you do for a living?"

"Nothing, really. I'm at school. Had a couple of retail jobs here and there..."

"Oh, retail? You're good at selling things?"

"Under the right motivation."

Carlisle laughed. "Oh, I'm going to like you."

"What do you do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm a businessman."

* * *

"Is she trying to take Jessica's place?" Embry asked. "Uh, that shouldn't happen for obvious reasons. We should—"

"She's a grown woman," Leah said, shuddering from the sound of the man's voice over her headphones. He sounded so... predatory. It made her skin crawl. "She could do whatever the hell she wants."

"Fool," Jacob mumbled under his breath.

Leah couldn't argue against that. Her focus remained on the "love birds" for another minute before shifting to another interesting target: Edward Masen and Esme Cullen who were both standing off to the side, engaging in a quiet conversation while keeping an eye on Carlisle and Lauren. "That man has some balls," she commented. "His wife is right there, and he's flirting with another woman."

The man could have at least respected his wife enough to do this in one of the back rooms.

"This isn't going to end well," Jacob said.

* * *

"He certainly has a type..." Edward told Esme as he handed her a glass of blood provided by a waiter passing by; she looked like she needed one or three. After Esme thanked him, he turned around and frowned at the sight of his boss whispering sweet nothings into a young woman's ear.

"Edward, dear, you don't want to waste on good quality blood on your clothes, do you?"

Edward looked down and was a bit shocked at the sight of the broken wine glass in his hand; he hadn't even realized he was holding it. "Apologies," he whispered, embarrassed that he'd let his emotions get the best of him.

"Oh, there's no need to apologize," Esme said, giving Edward a soft smile. She grabbed a napkin from the table next to them and carefully helped Edward dispose of the mess. "I appreciate the sentiment. It's nice to know that there's someone here who…" she let out a sigh. "They can at least get a room."

Edward turned and shook his head at the couple. The young lady was now running her hand up and down Carlisle's thigh. "Do you want to leave?" he quietly offered. "You don't have to see this..."

"You are a doll, Edward," Esme said, wiping the rest of the blood off of Edward's palms. "Tanya will be glad to call you her husband."

* * *

"Wow, Edward's engaged to _Tanya_?" Embry glanced at Leah. "You got that down?"

"Yep," Leah confirmed.

"Wonderful," Jacob said.

* * *

"Good evening."

Mike nearly dropped the glass he was holding when he looked up to see Lauren pulling out a stool and sitting in front of him. She looked tired, but she tried to hide it with a broad smile.

"Evening," Mike replied. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I guess..." Lauren said with a shrug. She turned around and watched as everyone was poured another glass of red liquid. She quickly turned around, probably realizing what it _truly_ was. "I don't want to sound, but…Are they... drinking blood?"

"Careful, dearie, they can hear you," Mike said. And to prove his point, a couple of guests glanced at Lauren, judging her. "With all due respect, what are you doing at a party like this?"

"I needed to go somewhere. Tired of being home," Lauren quietly replied. She looked at the row of bottles behind Mike. "I need a shot of tonic."

Mike laughed and shook his head. "Not around these people, you don't." He further explained when he was met with confused eyes. "How did you get an invite, anyway?"

"My friend."

"Friend?"

Lauren nodded. "Yeah, my friend, Jessica, invited me as a guest. She used to, um... work with, uh... them." She nudged her head in the Cullen's direction.

Mike looked at the family then back at Lauren, absolutely stunned. "Holy shit. You mean that dead girl?"

Lauren nodded.

* * *

Embry glanced at his partners. "That was smart to wire the bar."

"Yeah, bar-talk is always handy," Jacob said. "Always handy."

Leah silently agreed.

* * *

"That man whose lap you were sitting on, your friend worked for him. In _many_ ways," Mike said then added, "He seems interested in you."

"Is that bad?" Lauren asked.

"Messing with married men generally is," Mike replied, but then felt bad for making the poor girl so nervous. She honestly had no idea what she was doing. "But he'll pay you well... enough."

Lauren gulped and began to sweat, realizing that perhaps she should have stayed home after all. "I'm not interested."

"You sure?" Mike asked. He chuckled when he received a heated glare. "I don't think he took it that way. He's interested in you and given that he's, well... _him_ , he's gonna get what he wants."

* * *

Leah could only shake her head as she listened to the conversation. She was beginning to dislike this Carlisle, even more than Edward; he was a far cry from the gentlemen the others described him to be. "That man is even a bigger douchebag than Ed—"

"Oh _shit_ , looks we got some movement!" Embry yelled out, ripping off his headphones and rushing to the front of the van, crouching. "Four at five o'clock!"

Leah heard Jacob curse as he headed to the back of the van. "Three moving in at two and fast!" he called out and then mumbled a string of "fucks" under his breath.

"Wait. What?" Leah peered out of the window. She couldn't pick up a single damn thing. Nothing but streetlight-lit streets, people partying it up in a bar across the street. Cars honking and driving across the road. The occasionally, loud fireworks exploded in the starry night sky above. She glanced at the camera. Nothing much had changed. Edward was leading Esme by the hand to the middle of the room for a chance. Carlisle was roaming around with a drink in his hand. Lauren was still conversing with Mike—

" _Get down_!"

* * *

Leah groaned as she slowly opened her eyes.

Her face, as well as the rest of her body, was to the floor, with some fallen equipment on the back. She stayed there, frozen, as she gathered her throats, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. She listened out for any sounds—the blast was gone, but it was replaced by screeching cars, blaring alarms wails and shouts from outside. Heaving breathing from within the van. Jacob spouting out every expletive under the sun.

And shots firing.

 _Fuck_.

Leah felt Embry climbing over her, removing some of the equipment off of her before reaching out for the police radio in the front of the van. "We got a 10-1 at Chicago and Ashland," he called out. "Ambush underway at Mike's. Reports of an explosion and multiple shots fired…"

"You alright?" she heard Jacob ask as he helped her off the ground, seemingly unfazed by the blast. That bastard.

"Yeah," Leah mumbled. Once the dust settled, she slowly moving towards the left side of the van to check on the last surviving surveillance video. She watched in stunned silence while a masked army stormed Mike's Lounge, about twenty-strong, dressed in black, guns blazing and aimed at the guests. An unfamiliar voice from behind the army ordered everyone to stand down. But the order was ignored as the guests started drawing their weapons, bearing their fangs— _the hell_?

"What the hell is going—"

A second explosion rocked the van.

"Yo, we gotta get outta here!" Embry shouted. "They're not finished!"

Leah jumped into the driver's seat, jammed the key into the ignition. When the engine failed to roar, she cursed loudly and turned the key again. Nothing. "Oh, you have to go be fucking kidding me!" She shouted, slamming a hand against the steering wheel.

"Leah," Jacob called out from behind. "Get the goddamn car going!"

"It won't turn on!"

Leah tried to turn on the car again. Nothing. It was like she was in some fucked-up horror movie with the action happening only two blocks away. She quickly peered out the passenger window—nothing but shots, shouts could be heard. Nothing but flashes and smoke could be seen.

It wasn't over.

"Fuck, we can't leave it," Embry told Jacob the obvious. "Paul will have our heads. We have too much evidence—" He flinched at the sound of another, smaller, blast. "So, plan?"

Leah turned around, waiting for any direction. Jacob stared at the van floor, pensive and annoyed as Hell. He cursed under his breath once again and snapped his head up. "Oka, this is what we're gonna do. Embry, move this car behind that building. It's blocked by a bunch of trees. No one'll find it. Leah stay in—"

Leah wasn't having it. "You are _not_ leaving me behind."

Jacob rolled his eyes and sighed. "I wasn't. Just compile all the equipment together and jam it into that bag." He pointed at the large black duffel behind the driver's seat. "I'm gonna be on the lookout and make sure no Cullen's or Denali's or others attack us. Deal?"

"Yeah, but," Leah stopped as she watched Embry jump out of the van. "Shouldn't you help him with moving this thing? This ain't a small car."

"He'll be fine," Jacob insisted. "He's stronger than he looks."

* * *

And Jacob wasn't kidding.

Leah wondered if this was yet another side effect of being a shapeshifter, inhuman strength. Because Embry was pushing that van about a hundred feet without breaking a sweat. If there weren't shooting close by, Leah would have Jacob or Embry about it. But now, she had work to do.

"Do you mind explaining to me what the hell is going on?" She asked her partner in a quiet voice as they ducked behind the van. Jacob made sure to record the ambush on his phone as the event on. He wouldn't have to do for long. Not with the shots finally dying out and the sound of police sirens in the distance.

"Ambush."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"I try—"

" _Stand_!"

Leah immediately did so. Jacob followed suit after closing his eyes and sighing. He was more bothered than scared. Embry looked more amused than anything.

What the hell's wrong with them? Leah couldn't help but wonder as the detectives stood next to each other in front of an armed man.

* * *

If this were a different situation, Leah would have reacted, but in the back of her mind, she figured this could be an opportunity. The man, a vampire, associated with the perpetrators of the ambush, was alone.

 _Don't engage_ , Leah thought to herself, hoping, somehow, someway, Jacob could hear here. The man was usually a laid-back person. But in front of vampires, impulsiveness tended to cloud his judgment. _We may need him_.

"Don't make a move," the soldier growled and placed a finger on the trigger of his gun. His attention was solely on Jacob, the most hostile and biggest of the three. He glanced at the man's waist and narrowed his eyes at the badge that hung there. He lifted his gaze. "You're cops," he said, not fazed by the revelation at all. "You're cops," he repeated, grinning maniacally. "You can't do anything to me. We're untouchable. The Deal says so."

Jacob and Embry just gave him a look.

Leah rolled her eyes and tightened the grip around her Glock handle. In reality, the presence of her weapon wouldn't scare the solider. He wouldn't die from her single metal bullet, and the sound of the shot would only attract more of his cronies. But at the moment, she couldn't bear the thought of shelving her gun.

Beside her, she caught her partner glancing at a stray rope of thick chain near the street gutter. She also noticed his smirk.

"Only if you keep your business out of the public eye," Leah reminded the vampire, eyeing the soldier's gun, waiting for him to attack. She could sense the determination from him, underneath the fear. "Which, judging from what's been going on the past few months, you and your people have been doing a really shitty job at."

Embry snorted behind her.

"So, what're you gonna do?" The vampire taunted. "Arrest me?"

Embry moved his hand to his gun.

"Or kill you," Leah suggested. "It doesn't matter to me. The fewer vampires we have running around, the better the world will be."

Jacob cleared his throat to keep himself from laughing.

"Do you want to say that to my face?"

"I believe I just did," Leah deadpanned. She took a step towards him. She knew she was dealing with a vampire, someone who could probably kill her with his bare hands. But she wouldn't remind the man of his physical advantage over her. "Whom do you work for?"

"The Volturi," the soldier confirmed, smirking. "And when they find you, they're gonna rip you limb from limb and drain you dry. All of you."

"I don't think they would be interested in our blood." Embry pointed out. "At all."

Jacob darkly chuckled.

"You're all humans," The soldier said before licking his lips as his amber eyes turned blood-red. " _My favorite_."

Embry gagged.

Leah blinked, deciding now it would be an excellent time to buy some time until backup (or Paul) arrived. "Humans? I don't understand. You work for the Volturi, right? Every vampire knows—" Then it dawned on to her. " _Ah_ , you must be a newborn. A very new newborn." She glanced back at the other detectives. "He's a newborn."

Embry and Jacob exchanged smirks.

The soldier growled. "I don't know why you're saying that like I'm a joke."

Leah let out an honest laugh. It was very uncharacteristic of her, especially in front of perps, but these past five months had been so crazy that she couldn't help it. "Honey, in the vampire world, you kind of are."

"And what do you know about vampires?"

"A lot more than you think," Leah replied, realizing that the man must still think that she and the other detectives were human. She took a couple of steps forward. "We need to talk."

"You better step away, human, before you regret it," the soldier spat out.

" _Excuse_ _me_?"

The soldier quickly pulled out another gun, a pistol, from his holster, but before he could put it to use, he was jerked back and nearly pulled off his feet. He gasped and choked as he tried to claw off the chains around his neck. Jacob was behind him, staring him down as he arranged the chains tightly around the soldier's throat. The soldier tried to fight back, but he was no match for Jacob's strength.

"This is p-police brutality!" the soldier shouted, wheezing during a brief period of relief. But then Jacob pulled on the chains even harder. The soldier began to choke even more as he tried to get a hold on the chain around his neck; it was no use. He couldn't loosen it. Leah cringed at the sound of the breaking bones of the soldier neck.

"You want to report to us?" Jacob asked in his ear, taunting him. "Are you sure?"

"Jacob, let him go," Leah ordered. "I think he got the point, and if you haven't noticed, we kinda need him as a source."

Embry remained silent.

" _What's going on over there_?"

The detectives turned around and watched as another vampire—another soldier—emerged from behind a building, holding his rifle standing up. He didn't acknowledge the detectives, even though Sam had his hands wrapped around chains in an attempt to rid his partner of any oxygen. His attention was all on his partner.

It if wasn't for the fact that the detectives knew that the Volturi would never use humans as soldiers, they would have thought that the newcomer was human. He wasn't as pale as the others. His tan skin didn't shine under the streetlight like the others.

Leah surmised that he must have been a newborn as well, but perhaps from a higher rank, judging from the way Jacob's victim was reacting to him.

"That's how you keep guard, Vince?" he asked, disgusted. His partner couldn't exactly make a coherent response due to his airways being blocked. It didn't even look like he was looking for an answer; he just let out a sigh and shook his head. "Of course." He turned to Jacob. "Good evening."

Jacob growled and tightened the chains around the soldier's neck. If he kept it up, the detective might decapitate the man.

"Benjamin..." Vince choked as he continued to gasp for air. For a moment, he seemed confused about his coworker's actions; the man should at least try to save him, but Benjamin wasn't moving a muscle. He was just engaging in an intense staring contest with Jacob.

To everyone's surprise, after several seconds, Jacob began to loosen his grip.

"Let him go," Leah ordered Jacob for the second time. It wasn't even worth killing the man. The Volturi would probably do the job themselves soon enough. That was how they usually were with newborns: they use them for a short while and then kill them when they were no longer needed.

Jacob finally listened.

"Ben…" Vince repeated as he tried to soothe his neck, eyes conveying nothing but pure confusion. He leaned over, hands on his knees as he took a series of labored breaths. With rage in his eyes, he glanced up at Jacob—he looked distracted, perfect—and quickly reached for the dagger in his holster handing off his belt.

But before he could attack, Embry got a hold of him from behind. Jacob snatched the weapon from Vince and jammed it into his heart. It was only after Jacob pulled the weapon out that Vince's lifeless body fell onto the ground. Everyone stared at the body in silence, except for Leah, who was looking at Jacob in disbelief—partly because she couldn't believe the "stake to the heart" technique actually worked, somewhat because Vince was gone. This was not a part of the plan, at all.

"You let him die," Leah accused after a few moments, glaring at Benjamin. She didn't care about Vince's death, but co-workers generally didn't just let coworkers die like that.

Benjamin didn't dispute it, and he didn't show an ounce of regret for his inaction. He bent down to retrieve his fallen comrade's weapon and a bag of spare blood—for emergency purposes. It wasn't even the good stuff, but human blood was human blood, and he would be a fool to let it go to waste. "He wouldn't have lasted long anyway. He got what he deserved,"

Benjamin straightened back up. He ripped open the bag and downed the blood; he had been feeling weaker lately. He wiped off the excess around his mouth with the back of his hand. When he noticed the detectives' expressions, he added, "What?"

"I just thought you guys would have each other's backs," Leah said. "Working for the same people and all."

Benjamin snorted. He started to walk to the other side of the van, but he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Leah aiming her gun at him. He raised an eyebrow, and she narrowed her suspicious eyes.

Before Benjamin could speak up again, she took a step towards him with the gun still aimed at him and said, "You're a double agent."

"And you're detectives," Benjamin quickly replied, impassive. "Homicide? No offense but you guys don't seem like you're from the Gang Unit. They usually show up at a place with guns blazing, like they're SWAT." He continued when the detectives, sans Leah, gave him a questioning look. "The police badges gave it away, and I've seen you all at various crimes scenes."

" _Splendid_ ," Leah muttered under his breath.

"It's all good," Benjamin insisted. "I won't say anything. So, what are you guys? I know you're not humans, except for _you_ , Miss, and I definitely know you're not vampires. Werewolves, then?"

The detectives snorted.

"More like shape-shifters," Embry replied, proud.

"Children of the Moon?

"Similar, but less rabid," Jacob said. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Benjamin al Fadhil."

Leah eyed the man, having a strong feeling that the name was a false one, but she wouldn't hold it against him. After all, he was an undercover agent. It didn't matter what team they were on; the revelation of his true identity was a matter of life and death. Not only for him, but also for his loved ones.

"So, I was right," Leah said. "You are a double agent."

Benjamin chuckled. "You can see right through people, can't you?"

"You have no idea…" Jacob mumbled.

"Double? Oh. I guess there's no point in lying…" Benjamin said, smirking. Probably feeling proud of himself because he wasn't _dead_ -dead was nothing short of a miracle.

"So, who do you work for, exactly?" Embry asked.

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Officially."

"Officially, I'm with the ATF," Benjamin confessed, studying the detectives, particularly Leah, who still had her gun out. He carefully discharged the bullets from his weapon and was relieved when the detectives followed suit.

"They know about your... state?" Leah had to ask.

"What? About me being a…? No, and I would appreciate it if it's kept that way," Benjamin said. "They know about the covens, sort of. Most of them think that the members of the covens are a part of some fetishized, creepy movement that just happened to be involved in the illegal arms market. They only know part of the truth."

"So, you work for the ATF, the Volturi and, I assume, someone else?" Leah asked. "Another coven?"

Benjamin wouldn't confirm anything.

"What's the ATF doing assigning undercover agents to covens?" Embry asked.

Benjamin hesitated, and Leah couldn't blame him. He was undercover; he technically wasn't supposed to exist to him, and he could risk compromising his assignment for just speaking to them. But he seemed like he was willing to break protocol only this once. "You already know," he replied. "It's the subject of all of your recent investigations."

The detectives exchanged looks.

Leah took a moment to think. The ATF generally dealt with the illegal transport of arms, so that must mean that—no wonder Benjamin was assigned to this case. "You're talking about the bullets? The ones made of light?"

"Ultraviolet bullets. They're like light bulbs, except they're self-suppliant and were specifically designed to kill my kind. Of course, as you can imagine, they were imported into this country illegally, and since we're the ATF, we've got to track them down."

Leah nodded. "Do your people know about the significance of the light?"

Benjamin shook his head. "As far as I know, CPD is the only law enforcement agency that knows about and believes in our existence, them in the FBI, of course. But that's nothing new; they're always on some X-Files mess."

"They're working with us," Jacob revealed, perhaps his better judgment. "The FBI. They didn't say anything much to us, you know how they are, but they're interested in the coven operations around Chicago."

Benjamin nodded. "Can't say I'm too surprised. They must have found out about the potential merger between the Cullen's and the Denali's. Everyone's worried about that. As they should be."

"Yeah, that merger's going to be a problem," Jacob said. "How much time do you have until someone else comes down here?"

Benjamin glanced at his watch. "A couple of minutes. Everyone's scouting around the area for any Cullen-stragglers, but they'll be coming down as soon as they're back."

Leah reached into her pocket to finally turn her phone on and cringed at the hordes of texts, missed calls and voicemails. They were almost all from Paul; the rest was from Bella and Eric. She could check on them later.

"We should keep in touch. And we won't reveal your identity," she promised. "We could use your help. As you can see, our investigations are at a standstill because of certain technicalities, but war is underway, and I would rather not sit through another long one."

"I hear ya." Benjamin glanced on both sides. "I can use your help, too—more like it would be nice if you people stayed off my back. I'm not trying to become another Mike Newton."

"You know about Mike?" Jacob asked.

Benjamin scoffed. "Who doesn't know about Mike? Point is: I can't become an official informant for you guys since I'm, you know, undercover."

"We understand," Embry said.

"Don't worry. You'll definitely be seeing me around," Benjamin assured them as he checked his watch. He was going to have to leave soon. "It looks like some shit is going to go down. You know, and I know that they're going to retaliate soon."

"What about your friend?" Embry asked.

Benjamin looked down at the deceased vampire, void of emotion. "He wasn't my friend. Don't worry about him," he insisted, confident. "I'll deal with the body, but you gotta leave. If I know the Volturi and their friends, they'll be spending someone here in a few minutes to interrogate you guys. And for the record, we never had this conversation. We never met. I came here after you escaped. Sounds like a plan?"

None of the detectives protested.


	18. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

* * *

"You know one of these days, I'm going to write a book about this entire experience."

Jacob leaned against the wall adjacent to Paul's office. "You ain't gonna write _shit_ ," he snorted before digging a hand into his pocket, pulling out a stray cigarette and a lighter. He lit the tobacco up, took a drag, and handed it to Leah.

"Fuck you, and yes, I am," Embry retorted, but with only half the bite. After thanking Leah for the much-needed cigarette, he took a puff before giving it to Jacob.

Sharing a cigarette among three people probably wasn't the most sanitary thing to do. Smoking within the precinct walls was also not the most permissible thing to do, but it was one in the morning. The trio was exhausted beyond belief. They had just witnessed a surprise ambush. They now were sitting outside of an understandably raging captain, waiting to get chewed out—Sanitary and smoking rules could fuck themselves at this moment.

"I'm sure it'll be great," Leah said, taking the cigarette from her partner's hand. She took one more drag and handed it to Embry. This was going to be the last time she smoked; she swore it would be.

"Oh, it's gonna be a New Times Best Seller because shit like this hasn't been written about," Embry said. "Hasn't been made into a movie. You know what? I should make it like a tell-all. People love tell-all's, right?"

"I can't believe we're having this conversation..." Jacob mumbled, shaking his head.

Leah ignored Jacob's comment. Yes, this conversation was on the trivial side, but she needed trivial at this time. "You're going to have to omit a lot of things. Like the existence of vampires."

"I'll figure something out," Embry said, determined, "And I'll give you some of the proceeds for creative input. Jacob won't get a damn thing because he's being a dick."

Leah let out a dry chuckle.

Jacob let out a full one, only stopping when he caught sight of Jared carefully walking out of Paul's office, looking as grim as ever. It was an odd look to see on the precinct prankster. "What's up?"

Jared took a couple of steps forward and glanced behind him. Through the shades, the cops could see Paul on the phone, screaming at someone. Pacing— goodness, pacing meant that he was in one of his moods. Jared gulped. "He'll see you in a couple," he said. "I wouldn't pull any shit if I were you."

"That mad?" Leah asked.

"That mad."

* * *

"What the _fuck_ happened?"

Paul's question was a loaded one. A potentially dangerous one. Such a simple question carried so much weight, so many implications. Paul was their friend, but at this moment, he was just their supervisor. Their captain. Like Jared had said earlier, this wasn't the time for any bullshit. Even if they were in the clear. Even if they, like everyone else, had been taken aback by the ambush, even Mike who, interestingly enough, wasn't being questioned at any precinct at this time. The cops had just been there to spy on the party goers. Nothing more, nothing less.

Leah wondered if Jacob would tell Paul about the soldier he had killed. In his defense, it had been out of self-defense, but still, a killing was a killing—but judging from the look on the captain's face, Leah doubted Jacob would mention a damn thing.

Ultimately, Jacob took one for the team, much to Leah and Embry's, especially Embry's, relief. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, we got a tip from Mike about a party happening at his place, hosted by the Cullen's and the Denali's, attended by their allies, including the Velasquez coven. It just was supposed to be a party, and we thought it would be a good opportunity to gather some intel." He took a deep breath. "We didn't think the place was gonna get bombed."

"It was more like ambushed," Leah corrected.

"But no cop died," Embry quickly added. "And there was limited CPD property damage."

" _Thank you_ , Officer Call," Paul bit out. "But that doesn't negate the fact that there's a bombed-out lounge, fourteen dead people, fuck knows how many more injured, and I got a chief of police so far up my ass—"

"We didn't know," Jacob reasoned, sitting up in his chair, squaring up his broad shoulders. He was watching Paul's every move. Like a hawk, Leah thought. It was a cliché metaphor, but it fit so perfectly. Her partner seemed to search for signs for… Paul? Leah didn't know. It was as if Jacob was expecting something to happen.

She glanced at Embry to see if he picked up anything. He did, of course, he didn't tell Leah something, but he definitely noticed something. He was on guard too, but unlike Jacob, he wasn't ready to act.

Jacob carried on, "If we have known, we would have—"

"It doesn't matter if you knew or not, _goddamn it_ ," Paul said, snarling, slamming his fist on the desk, causing everyone but Jacob to flinch on instinct. "What matters is that it _happened_."

Leah and Embry shared concerned looks. They didn't like where this rant was heading.

"What matters is that those fucking _fucks_." Paul began pacing around again, face flushed, his hands balled into tight fists. His words releasing between gritted teeth. "Thought it was a _fucking_ good idea to shoot up a _fucking_ lounge on a _fucking_ Saturday night with a bunch of people _fucking_ around and _fucking_ —"

Jacob shut up from his seat. " _Paul,_ " he growled.

Leah had no idea what was happening, but Embry did. Might have. He did have that look of understanding and concern in his eyes. It was odd, such a surreal sight to see and Leah couldn't accurately describe it—Paul started to back off. He took a series of deep, controlled breaths; the red of draining from his face. His body relaxed as he slowly turned around and walked back to his desk. He sat down, looking at the cops, apologetic—about his anger, Leah thought—ashamed, embarrassed.

Jacob sat back down as well and acted as if nothing had happened. Embry relaxed, smiling to himself— Leah couldn't tell if it was real or fake or Embry's way to convince himself that everything was going fine.

" _Okay_ ," Paul started, folded his hands on his desk. He took enough deep breath, seemingly and miraculously in better spirits, considering the circumstances. "Alright, let's get back to work." He clapped, ready to go. "About this ambush…"

* * *

"What happens now?" Leah asked as she followed Jacob out of the precinct. It was now a quarter before two. Jacob had offered to drop Embry off at his home as well, the cop decided to stay behind to make sure Paul didn't do anything he would regret, like literally biting someone's head off.

"We rest," Jacob said, unlocking the car. He wanted Leah to enter the vehicle before doing so himself. "We have to be ready for the incoming shit storm."

"Can't wait," Leah mumbled.

"I'll pick up around six-thirty, seven," Jacob said, turning on the car. "So please make sure you _take_ a nap, Leah."

"I know how to sleep," Leah retorted. " _Thank you_."

Jacob snorted. "Sure, you do."

"Yeah, whatever," Leah grumbled, crossing her arms. "Just drop me off at my mom's."

"Not yours?" Jacob asked, glancing behind him to check for any cars passing by. When the coast was cleared, he began to back out of the parking space.

"I can't sleep inside an empty apartment anymore," Leah quietly confessed, and then, "If you don't mind."

"Sure thing."

* * *

Leah asked about Paul when they crossed the Chicago-Evanston border.

"He'll be fine," Jacob said.

"You sure?" Leah was doubtful. "I thought Paul was going to have a stroke in there."

"He wouldn't have a stroke," Jacob said, frowning. "When he gets mad like that, he tends to phase. And that's the last thing we need right now."

Leah blinked. "Phase as in...?"

"Yep," Jacob confirmed, stopping at a red light. He then let out a dry laugh. "Shit, I haven't heard Paul drop that many f-bombs since that one day he had been forced to work in Property for two months."

"What happened?"

"Punched a cop out," Jacob said. "That racist asshole deserved it. The captain knew it, so he just had him transferred instead of suspended."

"What happened to the racist asshole?"

"Put in District 11."

Leah almost felt bad for the guy. _District 11_. That was one of the worst places in the city to patrol. "Ouch."

* * *

It was around three in the morning when Leah finally arrived at her mother's home. Three hours. That was how long she would spend at the house before she had to get ready and head back to Chicago— She let out a tired sigh. She wasn't too thrilled about her work plans, but she knew she couldn't just call off. She had agreed to join this task force, knowing about the downsides.

It is what it is.

Tossing her coat to the side, Leah was determined to hit the bed in the next minute, but then a light and noise from the living caught her attention. Thinking it was probably Seth and in his insomnia-self watching late night television, she headed to the room to announce her presence. But to her complete surprise, she didn't find her brother. She found her mother, lying across the couch; her weary eyes were glued to the television in front of her. The news was on— Breaking News. A repeat news story about Mike's.

Great.

"Don't you think it's time to go to bed?" Leah told her mom, fighting back a yawn and the desire to rub her eyes into oblivion. Her eyes felt scratchy, and she was jittery from caffeine, too much action and not enough sleep.

Sue glanced up at her daughter. "I was waiting for your phone call, just to know you're okay, especially with everything happening." She returned her attention to the screen and pointed at it. "Do you know about this?"

On the screen, the reporter walked up to a young man covered in soot with a beer in his hand. He looked shell-shocked. A witness, Leah concluded as her focus shifted to around the vocal duo. Debris, there was so much debris. So many cops. So many EMT's and media. And curious bystanders.

This did not bode well for her next work day.

Which began in three hours.

Shit.

"Yeah," Leah quietly admitted, though she wouldn't go beyond that. She turned around and began to head up the stairs, adjacent to the living room. "I'm heading to bed. Got a long day ahead of me."

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, mom."

"How's Sam?"

Leah stopped. "Won't hear from him for another week, but I know he's not dead."

"Comforting," she heard her mother mumble.

* * *

" _Good morning, this is Lisa Melendez for Channel Five, reporting from… where just hours ago... Mike's Lounge, a popular nightclub and lounge... by, what authorities have described as illegal fireworks. The Police and Fire Departments..._ "

" _Fireworks_." Jared Cameron scoffed the following morning while he, along with the rest of the task force, watched the morning news coverage of the ambush. "I can't believe they brought that excuse."

"How much do you think they were paid off?" another cop asked.

"What difference does it make?" Paul grumbled, arms crossed. He seemed to shake his head at every person Lisa spoke to. "This is a goddamn P.R. disaster. Makes us look fucking incompetent."

"In our defense, Captain," one of Paul's sergeants said as he handed his boss yet another Red Bull. "No one in their right mind thought Mike's would get ambushed."

Standing in the back of the crowd, Leah and Jacob quietly watched on as Lisa directed the cameras to the building frame that once held Mike's. They both had a cup of coffee mixed with three shots of espresso— the amount of caffeine was excessive, but it was one of those mornings. As of eight hours ago, every task force member had resigned to the fact that they would be even more sleep-deprived for at least, the next few weeks.

As soon as the news coverage transferred into commercials, Leah let out a deep sigh, finished her drink, and pushed herself off her desk. "Come on, Black. We should head back to work. You and Embry have to visit Bella—"

"And you gotta meet up with your favorite informant."

* * *

"What do you know about last night?" Leah asked Riley as they stood under the Pink Line tracks, near Little Village. Save for the distant sirens and the occasional sound of the train passing above, the area was quiet. Void of people, cars and the usual ruckus.

Leah noticed the conflict in Riley's eyes. The concern. The irritation— she made a note of that.

"I wasn't involved," Riley finally said, quietly. "I was ordered to hang around the Stockyards while a shipment came in. I heard rumblings last week, but I didn't know they were gonna bomb that place."

Leah snorted. Yeah, him and everyone else. She stopped. So, Victoria was involved, after all. She quickly wrote Riley's words down, and then, "Rumblings like what?"

"You know how my boss is..." Riley trailed off as he retrieved a can of beer from inside his leather jacket. He popped it opened and quickly downed it. Moments later, he crushed the empty can under his Converses and kicked it aside. "She's not gonna stop until everyone's dead. Or if James, somehow, comes back to life."

Leah figured that would be the case. "So, James' death had something do to the ambush?"

"Nah, I don't think so. At least, not entirely. See, a couple of days before, we got a random visit from Jane- You know that chick everyone's scared outta their minds of?"

Leah nodded. "I know of her."

"Well, she and Victoria had this long meeting about working together. Couldn't get the details but—"

"You guys are allies?"

"I wouldn't say that. I think they have some shaky truce. Sometimes we do business for them, and sometimes they do business for us..."

Leah leaned in. "Are saying that the Volturi was involved in the ambush?"

"They're still pissed off about what happened to Demetri," Riley said. "And then, you got Sasha and Vasili breaking the cardinal laws..."

"Hm," Leah said. "I'd thought the Volturi would be more discreet."

"They wanted to throw you guys off," Riley said. "Didn't do a good job, but who cares about my opinion?" He shrugged, and then, dropping to a whisper, "I visited Bree's grave. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Leah said, wishing she could have done more.

There wasn't a funeral for the fallen teenager. Her parents refused to claim her body; according to them, she was dead the moment she had run away from home a year so before—An asshole move, in Leah's opinion, but there was nothing she could do but reach out to a nonprofit to have buried in an actual cemetery.

"It didn't have to end like this. She was a runaway. She just needed a home and Victoria gave it to her." Riley bit his lip. "She was only chosen because she supposedly reminded Victoria of herself." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever that means."

"Why was she at the slaughterhouse that night?"

"I dunno," Riley said, hands balling into fists. He muttered a series of curses under his breath- must be out of guilt, Leah thought. Or anger. Or both. "I'm—shit—too afraid to ask, you know?"

Fear, not surprisingly, was something the usual proud man didn't want to admit. A part of Leah truly felt for Riley. She couldn't imagine—but she still had a job to do. "I understand," she said. "But when you get the chance, find out? I may not be a fan of your life choices, but I'd like to get to the bottom of Bree's murder." She glanced at both sides; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "We'll keep in touch."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Leah nodded and went on her way.

She would never mention it to Riley, but he was quickly becoming one of the most useful informants she had ever encountered— especially given the circumstances of their first meeting. She wondered if there was another motive behind Riley's cooperation besides being offered some reprieve. She was beginning to notice that ever since Bree's untimely demise, Riley was slowly losing faith in Victoria.

* * *

"The esteemed Detective Louis Eames," Jacob announced, walking through the large hole that once housed lounge's stained-glass window. Leah and Embry followed close behind.

It was two days since the ambush at Mike's Lounge, and the crime scene area, though tended to aggressively, still looked like the incident had only happened hours ago. There weren't any dead bodies present this time, but there was still a significant media presence, a large bystander presence, and never-ending debris.

Detective Eames turned around and groaned, "Are you trying to sabotage my case, Black?"

"Oh, come on, Eames, after all the time we've spent together?" Jacob said, slapping the detective on his shoulder. "How you're doing this fine morning?"

"Ugh," Eames said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand

Eames didn't have to explain how he was feeling. His body language told Leah for him. He was exhausted beyond, and instead of resting, he was here, in the middle of a destroyed lounge with blood caked everywhere. The paperwork was going to be infuriating, only slightly more than those goddamn journalists standing beyond the caution tape who didn't know what "we don't have any new information at this time" meant if those words were shoved up their—

"We just stopped by to give some insistence," Jacob said, cutting off Leah's thoughts. "Unfortunately, those involved are also involved in some of our cases."

"Seems pretty cut-and-dry to me," Eames said, glancing to his left where his partner stood, speaking with another cop. "Mob party gone wrong. This has retaliation all over it."

"Wonderful."

"I got one thing, though." Eames turned around, picked up an evidence bag, and presented it to the trio. "Bullets made out of the light. Ain't that some shit? They kill off certain groups of people, if you can call them that…"

"They're people," Jacob said. "Annoying, but people nonetheless." He examined the content of the bag and sighed. "How many did you find?"

"Gotta be at least a hundred."

"Oh, they were serious," Embry said. "A warning shot, this wasn't a warning shot."

"I'm surprised they'd leave such damning evidence," Leah said.

"They're getting sloppy," Eames said. "This not good…"

"Not good?" Jacob replied, smirking. "Oh, we love sloppy. Sloppy means we're on to them. Sloppy means it's only a matter of time before they really fuck up. And boy, do I love slip-ups."

Embry shrugged. "Yeah, what he said."

Leah rolled her eyes.

"Why I'm glad you're a half-glass-full guy," Eames grumbled. "Because of this mess, the goddamn feds are here, snooping around our cases."

"The feds had always been here," Leah said.

Eames rolled his eyes. "Yeah, not like this."

"C'mon, what do you expect?" Jacob said. "This place was blown and shot into smithereens. The mob was involved, multiple mobs. Those mobs. Of course, the feds are gonna make an appearance."

* * *

This wasn't their crime scene, Leah had to remind herself as she walked among the debris. They were only here to provide, assistance, to make sure the two detectives officially assigned to this case knew who they were dealing with and how to start.

She looked over her shoulder and sighed at the sight of her partners roaming around the scene, with pads and pens in their hands, talking to everyone they encountered—they must not have gotten the memo.

Or maybe they didn't care. It seemed that the protocol wasn't too important for the task force. Leah guessed she could understand why; they weren't dealing with the usual perpetrators.

This isn't her business, she reminded herself as she headed into the direction of Detective Eames who was checking out what was once the bar. She was going to ask a couple of questions, she promised herself, maybe answer some questions for the detective. Eames was an old-timer, but he tolerable.

"A low-level grenade was tossed through the front windows. Two, exactly. One stopped near the front of the lounge, the next at the second floor," Eames told Leah when she approached him, asking about the bomb. "Amidst all of the confusion and smoke, the shooting began."

Leah's eyes roamed around the dilapidated shelved that once held liquor and other antiques. "How many dead again?"

"Now, fourteen," Eames said. "We found the last one under some rubble."

"And I assume the dead are at the morgue?"

"Dr. Swan and their crew picked them up some time back," Eames let out a dry cough before putting on his gloves and lifting an ashy wooden slab. One untouched bottle of Jack Daniels—he snorted, and, "She said she would give us the results from the preliminary examinations by the end of the say."

"It should be easy."

"Yeah, except it's not."

"Because they're the undead?"

Eames blinked, and then slightly smiled. "Ah, so you _do_ know about them?"

"I'm on Paul's taskforce, Eames," Leah reminded the man, "Of course, of course, I do."

"Crazy, ain't it? Us, living among vampires. Who'd ever thought those myths were up to something?" Eames then sighed. "I don't even know why I'm bothering with this case. We can't arrest vampires. We gotta rely on the damn feds now."

"Any signs of the owner of the establishment?"

"He's currently M.I.A."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean he's missing?"

"No one's seen or heard from him since before the party," the other detective explained. He was annoyed about it. "And he's not one of the dead."

"Shit."

"I wouldn't be concerned," Eames said, sounding surprisingly hopeful for a usually cynical man. "He's bound to come back to Chicago. He has to. This is, was, his business. He was there, and he needs to be brought in for questioning."

"Maybe that's why he's M.I.A."

"It really wouldn't do him any good. Especially if the feds get their hands on him."

Leah appreciated the detective's optimism; it was a breath of fresh air, but she knew deep inside that Mike wouldn't return this screaming unless he were kicking or screaming or dead. The man would rather slit his wrists than testify as a witness. "I'm sure he will."

* * *

"I can't thank you enough for agreeing to meet up with us. Especially at this time of night."

"Oh, it's no big deal," Benjamin told Leah as he poured himself a glass of blood. The animal kind— he had ensured the detectives after apologizing for not having anything else to serve but blood. "Anyway, my kind thrives at night. Eleven in the evening is nothing.

"You're sure your people won't throw a fit about compromising your position?" Jacob asked.

Leah's eyes roamed around the tiny, sparsely-decorated, apartment, a studio, really. Located in Rogers Park. The place was probably bugged since it did serve as Benjamin's temporary home, but she wasn't too concerned. Nothing nefarious was expected.

"I wouldn't call it compromising," Benjamin said, sitting down on his frayed leather couch across from the detectives. "Aren't we on the same team?"

Jacob was satisfied with the reply.

"How much time do we have?" Embry asked.

"Thirty tops."

"We should get started then," Leah decided as she took out a pen and a notepad. "So, it's my understanding that we all are, more or less, investigating the same group of people and are cognizant of the Deal brokered between the police and various covens, serving as criminal enterprises..."

Benjamin took a sip of his snack. "That goddamn Deal."

"It was a terrible idea," Jacob gritted out.

"Ain't that the truth," Embry mumbled.

"They said it was necessary at the time," Leah said. She didn't like the agreement any more than Jacob or Embry did, but it had been the sixties. The city had enough issues as it was; it hadn't needed vampires added into the mix of that era's drama.

The conversation stalled.

"What do you know about Demetri?" Embry asked, breaking the silence.

"He's dead," Benjamin stated.

"Killed by a shot to the head," Embry said.

Benjamin nodded but seemed conflicted. "Yeah, I heard about that. Suicide, they say. Somewhat surprised, I have to admit. I know suicide is... suicide, but the man was a narcissistic asshole. He loved who he was, what he was able to do." He shook his head. "I don't know. I find it hard to believe he'd put a gun to his head..."

"Hypothetically speaking, if someone wanted him dead, what would be the motive?" Leah asked.

"Hypothetically speaking," the agent scoffed.

"Hypothetically speaking, if anyone wanted him dead, it'd be the Cullen's. Carlisle, in particular. Now, I don't have the specifics yet, but I do know he played a part in that deal-gone-wrong. You know, the one that resulted in that poor lady getting cut up and left in a hotel room."

Jacob cursed, Embry was apologetic, and Leah's mood changed to despair.

Benjamin studied the detectives' morose reactions. "That was your case?" he asked, and then after the detectives nodded, he shook his head and said, "Shit. Damn. Was that the reason why you were hanging around Mike's? It was for your murder investigation?" He stopped. "How did you know about that party, anyway? It was supposed to be private."

Jacob's hand shot up. "Hey, slow down with the questions."

"We have our sources," Embry said. "They gave us some info, and we decided to check it out."

Benjamin nodded. "I see."

"Have you seen Jessica's crime scene photos?" Leah asked.

Benjamin nodded. "Pretty brutal."

"The way her body was displayed, that had to be retaliation, right?"

"It seems that way."

"Did you know her?" Jacob then asked.

Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Goodness, this is starting to feel like a damn interrogation," and then, "Who, the girl? I wouldn't say I knew her. Only seen her a few times. Spoke to her once. She was one of Carlisle's girls, from what I hear, you know how people talk."

"They were a lot of rumors about her?" Embry asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe. I heard that she started seeing Carlisle around 2016. At first, he was discreet about it, but then he started getting comfortable. Careless. He would always give her money, take her on exclusive trips, invite her to some parties. Which I honestly don't get."

"Why?" Leah asked.

"Because if I were him, I'd never take my human girlfriend to parties attended by no one but vampires," the agent said. "It's too dangerous. Some vampires—they wouldn't see Carlisle's girl. They'd see dinner."

"And yet no one attacked her during those parties?"

Benjamin shrugged. "I guess no one wanted to be bothered facing off with a pissed-off coven leader."

"Was Carlisle possessive of Jessica?" Jacob asked. "I'm asking because we found the Cullen-Denali brand inside her wrist."

"I don't think..." Benjamin stopped. "I don't think that was an act of possessiveness to tell you the truth. That might have been all Jessica's doing. After all, it seemed like she wanted nothing more than to be by Carlisle's side."

"She must have been enamored by the Cullens," Leah suggested.

Benjamin frowned. "I think she was enamored with what he was rather than who he was."

"Huh," Jacob replied, crossing his arms.

Leah glanced at her partner, and then it hit her.

 _Oh_.

"She wanted to be a vampire," Leah concluded, eyes wide.

That was _why_ Jessica had allowed whoever, presumably Demetri, to bite her.

"You know humans can't resist us," Benjamin teased with a toothy grin. Leah raised an eyebrow. Embry didn't care while Jacob gave the vampire a blank look. "You're not a fan or my kind, are you?"

"No, not really," Jacob said.

Benjamin shrugged, seemingly not offended.

"Were there any attempts made to change Jessica?" Embry then asked.

Benjamin shook his head. "It's a well-known fact that coven members would have to get permission from the higher-ups to turn someone," he said. "And no one in their right mind would change Jessica. Esme would never forgive them. She barely tolerated the girl."

Leah leaned forward, always interested in discussing Esme. "I thought Esme was tolerant of the open-marriage arrangement?"

"She was, is, but..." the agent stopped to gather his words. "I guess Jessica didn't make a good impression. Look, Carlisle may not in love with Esme, but he does take some of her desires into consideration. Carlisle would have never turned Jessica, no matter how much she begged him to."

"Would a vampire-Jessica be that bad?" Leah asked.

"According to them, it would," Benjamin said. "I do recall overhearing some guys talking about her some months back. Apparently, she was begging every vampire she ran into to change her. I don't know why she was so insistent about it..." and then, "I have a question if you don't mind."

Jacob shrugged. "Shoot."

"Who are you after?"

"Jessica's killer," Jacob said. "The Denali's killer. Those responsible for the slaughterhouse murders. Demetri's killer—you know, the whole nine yards."

"Looks you guys got a lot on your plate," Benjamin said. "You sure you're not with the Bureau?"

"We're pretty sure," Leah said.

"Ah well, they're going to be more involved. Really involved," the agent told the detectives.

"Thanks for the heads up," Jacob said. "Anything you want from us?"

"Just an understanding—you scratch my backs, and I'll scratch yours. But I suppose since you've asked: do me one favor. Do you think we can keep this from the general public?" Benjamin asked. "No offense to you, Leah, but I doubt the human population would react well to the truth."

Leah shrugged.

"What do you think we've been doing?" Embry said, giving two thumbs up. "As far as the media's concerned, Mike's Lounge was destroyed by illegal fireworks."

Benjamin smirked. "It's a start."

* * *

"You got another informant?"

Leah wouldn't exactly call Benjamin that. The informant-label was generally applied to a perp willing to work with the law, and Benjamin wasn't that. He was an undercover federal agent. A man, a vampire, whose identity Leah promised not to reveal to anyone, not even Paul— she cleared her throat. "It's complicated."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's really complicated," Leah stressed, wondering if she should have just kept her mouth shut about the agent. But then again, Paul was the captain; he ought to know something. "But the C.I. has some valuable information. Perhaps, at this moment, even more than Riley."

Paul leaned back in his chair. "So, you wanna let Riley go?"

Leah shook her head. "Not yet," she said, glancing out of Paul's office windows to where Jacob and Embry stood, looking over some photos from the stakeout. "They're both extremely vital to our investigation."

Paul leaned forward, folding his hand his desk. "We can't _use_ anything from your new C.I in court if we don't know where his person stands," he reminds the detective.

"I know," Leah said, shoving her hands in her pockets. "But trust me on this, Paul, not now. Not until some things clear up and calm down. And anyway, based on how this mess is progressing now, I doubt we'll see the courtroom anytime soon."

* * *

"So, what's the final count?"

"You guys missed one: fifteen dead. Six from Maria. Three from the Cullen's," Benjamin said, rapping his fingers against the passenger door where the window met the fabric. He was slouching in the seat behind Embry, across from Leah, trying to remain as inconspicuous to outsiders as possible. But maybe not— he didn't seem to be that concerned about his location. After all, it was only noon. The action didn't occur until after sundown. "A waiter—vampire. Five from the Denali's. Got nineteen injured, all able to escape before your friends arrived."

"How convenient," Jacob remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Anyone of importance?" Leah asked.

"Most are low-level soldiers, shot along the front lines. But we do have one of note: Carlisle. He's out of commission."

Leah quickly wrote that information down.

Jacob looked at the agent via his rear-view mirror. "As in dead?"

"As in out of commission," Benjamin confirmed, adjusting his sunglasses. "Caught a couple of UV's in the shoulder and in the leg. He's not reacting too well."

"He's having an allergic reaction," Embry said.

Benjamin nodded.

"He's gonna survive?" Embry asked.

"Can't see why not." Benjamin gave a half-shrug; he didn't seem too concerned. "He's on bed rest, but he'll pull through."

Leah cleared her throat. "Who's in charge now?"

"Edward Masen."

"Of course," Jacob grumbled under his breath.

Embry didn't seem too surprised either.

"I thought he didn't want to be in charge," Leah told the agent, frowning. "That's what you told me."

"It has nothing to do with want, and everything to do with obligation," Benjamin replied. "Edward's always been Carlisle's right-hand man. What were they going to do? Put Jasper, or worse, Emmett, in charge? Although illegal, the Cullen enterprise is a business, not the damn Knights Templar."

Leah wasn't convinced.

"I thought Jasper's... calmed down," Jacob said. "Don't tell me he's back to his ol' tricks."

"He's calmed down alright," Benjamin replied. "But that's only because of Carlisle and Edward. He's... an alright guy, I guess. Real smart, but not fit to be the boss. Even he would admit that."

"What about Esme?" Leah offered.

She knew that on paper, Esme was a non-factor, but there was just something about that woman that made Leah pause. She wasn't dumb; she wasn't some foolish, happy-go-lucky housewife— Leah had seen past her facade during the night at Mike's. She had made a point to watch Esme's (and Edward's) every move. Based on her observations, although Esme hadn't entirely accepted her husband's infidelity from what she had seen, she wasn't putting up a fight because simply there wasn't one.

It was as if Esme had already known she had won. What and how? Leah vowed to find out.

"She prefers to remain behind the scenes, playing puppet master if needed," Benjamin said. "Especially since now Edward's on top. She's like a mother to him. He'll definitely take her opinions into consideration."

"And what about retaliation?" Embry asked.

"Oh, it's coming," Benjamin said. "But the details haven't been decided. People are still reeling over what happened, and now they have to recruit more people..."

"They're trying to build a newborn army like Victoria?" Jacob asked.

"Wouldn't be surprised," Benjamin said, now with one foot out of the door. "I'll keep you posted if anything comes up."

"Don't make us wait long," Leah said.

Benjamin winked at her. "I won't."

* * *

"Tell me about Jasper," Leah requested as she finished up a batch of reports. It was the morning after meeting up with Benjamin, two days following the ambush at Mike's, and the trio found themselves bound to their temporary desks at Paul's precinct for the morning. Jacob, unsurprisingly, was annoyed, but Leah couldn't help but feel relieved. She wanted to stay out of the action for the next few hours.

"You haven't worked on him?" Embry asked, leaning back in his chair, surprised.

"Apparently, not enough," Leah mumbled, moving on to the second stack of her dreaded paperwork. She appreciated her job, she honestly did, but she wished paperwork would just die.

Jacob reached out for his second-morning coffee, sitting at the edge of his seat and snorted. "Take that as a blessing."

Embry leaned over towards Leah and dropped, " _Sicario_."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Sicario," the cop repeated, and then, "That's his nickname."

"Never heard of it."

"It's Spanish for hitman, but it's been out of use as far as Jasper's concerned," Jacob explained with a dismissive wave. "He was a Confederate soldier in the Civil War. One thing led to another, and he ended up in Mexico where he became a hitman for Maria. Then one thing led to another, and he found himself working for the Cullen's."

"He's one of those quiet-serial killer types," Embry added. "Creepy as fuck."

"And Emmett?"

"Now, I know you've heard of him," Jacob said.

She had. Leah knew Emmett, sort of. During one of her earliest, albeit brief, assignments as a detective, she had investigated the man for conspiracy to murder. But of course, he had gotten off with nothing to his name. She would later learn that Emmett was now what Jasper had been to the Cullen's decades before— an enforcer. He was a force to be reckoned with, but at times, a carefree man; something only a selected few had the honor of witnessing.

"But I doubt I have the entire story."

"No one does," her partner replied.

"You know, if you wanna learn more about him, you should ask Miss Rosalie Hale," Embry offered, wiggling his eyebrows. He only stopped when he noticed Jacob's dirty look. "Hey, I'm just saying."

* * *

"He has a thing for her."

Leah opened a can of beer. "Who, Rosalie?"

Aisha glanced to her left and right, a habit developed by both women over the years. Nothing of note popped out. The friends were sitting inside a Wrigleyville bar during Happy Hour. It was an alright spot, in Leah's opinion, but it wasn't a complete dive. It wasn't full of drunken sports fans and lightweight college students attempting to do a bar crawl. "Yep."

Leah blinked before bringing the beer to her mouth. She was convinced that Embry had only been joking earlier; supposedly, she was wrong. "Well, then."

"Rumor has it that she changed him back in the thirties," Aisha explained. Her voice was steady and loud enough to hear over the increasingly rowdy crowd, but no one was paying the duo any mind. "Something about him being mauled by a bear." She shrugged. "I don't know. Rumors are rumors."

"How was he able to join the Cullen's?" Leah asked. "Rosalie's been declining the family's invites for years."

"I'm sure she introduced him to them at some point," Aisha said. "After all, Carlisle is the reason why she still graces us with her presence. She had died in the twenties at the hands of her husband or fiancé, a _real_ piece of work, and Carlisle gave her the bite."

"That explains her loyalty to the Cullen's," Leah replied. "I do wonder why she refuses to join them. Their coven, I guess. I mean, she's been working for them as their legal counsel since forever. She knows them."

"I guess she wants the one thing she couldn't have while alive."

"And what would that be?"

Aisha cleared her throat, staring off into the crowd, surrounding the bar, but not seeming to see anything. "Freedom."


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

* * *

"Should we be concerned that the only bodily fluid found in any of these bodies was blood? Because I think we should be concerned."

"Nothing was found?" Leah asked Eric, who was rummaging through the reports. Her focus was on the victim's bullet-ridden body. She was one of many casualties from Mike's ambush; a woman who looked like she couldn't be more than thirty. Eastern European, she believed, with curly blond hair; she had reminded Leah of one of the Denali sisters.

It was eleven in the morning. The detective had spent the last half an hour roaming around the Office of the Medical Examiner, hoping to retrieve some more information about the victims before heading to lunch. Jacob and Embry were in a meeting with Paul and had promised to stop by when they were done. Leah hoped and prayed she would be done with the medical examiners by then.

"Nothing but blood," Eric confirmed. "No juices, no sweat..."

"We get the point," Bella said, replacing the tool in her hand with a needle and a thread, ready to patch up the victim and place her back into the freezer. From what Leah could tell, this victim's autopsy was almost done. It was a standard shooting, Bella had told the detective, nothing much to investigate. Nothing, at least, that would be submitted into evidence. "Hey, you never know. Maybe she emptied her bladder before the shooting?"

Leah hoped Bella was joking.

"No one can completely empty their bladder," Eric contested. "There has to be a trace of bodily fluid somewhere. There aren't even traces of saliva? How can this lady not have saliva?"

"Dry mouth?" Bella suggested nonchalantly.

"No saliva," Eric stressed. "Should we look further into this?"

They should, in Leah's opinion, but she could fully understand why Bella wouldn't. After all, the victim had been a vampire.

"It's bizarre, I know," Bella said. "But there's really no need. I'm ruling this was a homicide. Bled to death from gunshot wounds. There's nothing else more to it."

"Got an identity?" Leah asked.

Bella shook her head. "Caucasian female. Early-to-mid thirties when she had turned. Amber eyes, blond hair. Has a tattoo of a dragon on her right shoulder blade. And of course, no prints."

"That's... frustrating," Leah mumbled, shaking her head. "Found any UV's in her?"

"Found UV's in everyone," Eric said. "And a lot. Checked with our ballistics people and they said they couldn't find traces or markings. "But I think this one was one of the last killed. She was somewhere in the back."

"How did you figure that out?"

"Those in the front were killed the first. They caught the most bullets."

Leah checked out the victim again. "And that's not a lot of bullets?"

"Some bodies are more unrecognizable," Bella pointed out. "At least, we have a profile on her," and then, "But we still have her belongings. She must be from money. Had a Louis Vuitton dress on, and real jewels."

"Any phone?"

"Nope," Eric said, "But we did find a beeper, destroyed by bullets, of course."

"And with the UV's," Bella continued. "It's probably fried. We have everything put aside. You still want it?"

"Everything," Leah told Bella. "Anything would help. That beeper is an interesting find. The only people who really use beepers are those in denial of the times or those on the other side of the law."

"Like dealers," Eric said.

"Like dealers," Leah confirmed.

* * *

"Whoever invented these boards should get a Nobel prize," Embry declared the following, knocking on one of the many cork boards standing around police station's open office space. "Makes our lives _so much_ easier."

"You got that right," Leah said, removing the top of the sharpie before quickly scribbling the status of Mike Newton, currently M.I.A, on a small piece of paper.

Jacob nodded in agreement as he adjusted the strings on the board that displayed all of the connections between subjects of various homicide investigations. It presented photos of every critical member of the covens, associates, and murder victims with their names, their employment, and their survival status.

The investigation board, at best, was a confusing mess of yarn, paper, and never-ending thumbtacks. And the detectives didn't dare touch the illegal-arms portion of the investigation; that was reserved for the other teams.

This was what the trio had so far: In mid-January, Jessica Stanley, a part-time student at DePaul and a waitress had been found mutilated inside the executive suite of a high-end hotel. She had been living a double-life as a mistress and an amateur dealer of Carlisle Cullen, the head of the Olympic coven, and a well-known partner of the Denali Family, who was also a part of the Olympic Coven. Jessica had been killed by a heart attack, induced by a poisonous substance that had entered her system via bite mark. Killed as a possible form of retaliation. Known suspect: Demetri Karlov, a member of the Volturi guard.

Who had also been found murdered inside his apartment shortly after Jessica's murder. He had been known dealer and enforcer, popular with the ladies and had an affinity for luring young women for a snack. He had often worked side-by-side with Jane, another high-ranking member of the Volturi. Jane had been seen periodically in the following months; actions, unknown. Demetri's cause of death was an ultra-violent bullet to the temple. Killed as a possible form of retaliation. Known suspects: the Cullen's and the Denali's—

Whose founder, Sasha, was found murdered, along with her newborn baby, inside her residence shortly after Demetri had been killed, but found before. An ultra-violet in each skull, stakes lodged in each chest. Killed as a possible punishment for violating an ancient vampire rule. Known suspects: the Volturi.

"How on earth has no one been arrested?" Embry asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "How was no one from the Cullen's been arrested?"

The Cullen's had been busy these past several months. They were also implicated in the Slaughterhouse mass murder of numerous dealers associated with Victoria, including a minor. Some of the victims were humans, some were shapeshifters, and some were vampires. Deaths caused by execution-style gunshots and mutilation by the Children of the Moon. Killed as a possible form of retaliation. Suspected suspects: the Cullen's and the Velazquez Cartel, also known as the Mexican Coven.

"We're missing something," Jacob said. "We're missing something big."

And then, this past weekend, the Olympic and the Velasquez Cartel (also known as the Mexican Coven) had been attacked during a private party at the notorious Mike's Lounge. Over fifteen dead; numerous injured including Carlisle Cullen. Ambush occurred as a possible form of retaliation. Suspected suspects: Victoria's gang. Mike Newton, the owner of Mike's Lounge, was currently M.I.A.

"Coincidence?"

"I think not," Leah said as she quickly wrote on a slip of paper and pinned on the board under Carlisle's photo. "Carlisle's on leave, recovering from injuries." She placed another slip under Edward's photo. "Edward's the new relief crime boss."

Who honestly should have been arrested _months_ _ago_ for his little bribery stunt? He had flat out obstructed an investigation by not only confronting Bella to put aside Jessica's autopsy but somehow managing to convince the moralistic Judge Sorio to but a stop on the autopsy all-together. Leah hoped if CPD couldn't nab him, the feds would.

"They're going to attack."

"Well, duh," Leah said. "They're at war." She leaned back against the table and crossed her arms. "I can't imagine Victoria's gang being the only perpetrator. They work with the Volturi; the Volturi must have known this was going to happen and gave Victoria the green light."

"I agree. This has the Volturi all over it," Jacob said. "But those bastards left no evidence."

"A shit storm," Embry said.

"Understatement of the century," Leah pointed out, and then, "So, Jacob, what should be focusing on specifically? We can't tackle everything."

"Yeah, I thought we were strictly doing surveillance?" Embry asked.

"Things changed. Our focus is on Jessica, Demetri, Sasha, and Vasili," Jacob said. "They seem to be the simplest ones. We can help the others with the slaughterhouse and the ambush investigation, but those four. That's our priority."

"So, nothing about the UV'S?" Leah asked. "Because if that's the case, we don't really have much use for Benjamin."

"No, we keep him," Jacob said. "He's our eyes into the Cullens who are involved in Jessica's, Demetri's and the Denali murders. Any info we get about the bullets, we'll hand it over to Paul, and he can do what he wants with it."

"Does he even know about Benjamin?" Embry asked.

"Not specifically," Leah said.

"I'll talk to him," Jacob declared.

"And Bree?"

Jacob looked at his partner and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I want Bree's case," Leah insisted.

"Bree, you mean the girl?" Embry asked, and then, "She's a part of the slaughterhouse case."

"They're not focusing on _her_ ," Leah pointed out. "Some think she was just a bystander. Collateral. Their focus is solely on the dealers. I know because I asked." Her attention shifted to her partner. "If we get to the bottom of her death, we may be able to squeeze more info out of Riley."

"Aren't you doing that already?" Jacob asked.

"He's almost there," Leah said. "Just _one more push_ , and he'll be entirely ours. May be compelled enough to testify in court."

* * *

 _Bree Tanner. Born July 22, 2002, in Schaumberg, Illinois. Only child. Attended school, got decent grades. No mentions of IAP's or family trouble. Dropped out in sophomore year of high school. Reported missing a year ago. Short police investigation for kidnapping, until Bree had been found. Admitted to being a runway and refused to back home. Parents gave up on after numerous disappearing acts. Last reported appearance, July 23, 2017…._

Leah dug into the mounds of files on her desk and pulled out a copy of the photo found in Bree's wallet. The one with Riley by her side. They had been near Soldier's Field with a massive billboard behind them, advertising about the upcoming Chicago Bears' 2017 season-opening. The photo must have been taken in earlier September. Bree most likely had been turned into a vampire already.

How did she find Victoria? Or rather, how did Victoria find Bree?

According to Riley, Victoria had wanted to build a newborn army, most likely to retaliate against the Cullen's for the murder of her lover, James. But Bree hadn't looked like a solider. But then again, Jane didn't either, and she was one of the most feared members of the Volturi.

Leah continued to search through the photocopies of Bree's evidence. She didn't have any financial records; she had only been a minor. Her parents hadn't provided much help save for a copy of her report cards. No fake ID was found on Bree.

"She's like a goddamn ghost," Leah complained, fearing that she was approaching yet another dead end.

"Huh, the best kind to recruit into a newborn army," Jacob commented, rather flippantly as he typed up his reports; he was pretty behind, completely ignoring Leah's previous advice not to procrastinate. "No one's really looking for ghosts. Except, you know, ghost hunters."

"And you're sure she was a newborn?" Leah asked, not exactly knowing what constituted as "newborn." Based on the pictures, Bree had only been a vampire for less than two years.

"Yep."

"How can you tell the difference between a vampire and a newborn vampire?"

Jacob looked over his computer monitor and smirked. "They're both vampires, Leah."

Leah rolled her eyes. "No shit."

"Deal with them long enough, and you can detect the difference from miles away," Jacob said, more serious this time. "Think the difference between people who just hit puberty and grown adults."

"So, newborns are awkward."

"Not as fast, not as strong, and their sense of smell is crap. More human-like." Jacob gave Leah a look. "No offense."

"None taken."

"Except for blood." Jacob continued. "They'll always be able to pick up the scent of blood. They also are bad at detecting different species. And they're more expendable."

Leah nodded, wishing there was some course in supernatural studies. "Thanks..." she said, frowning, and then, without much thinking, "I feel stupid sometimes," she quietly admitted, earning a horrified, confused look on her partner's face. "Everyone seems to know more about the supernatural than I do. Especially in this place."

"You're not stupid," Jacob said, eyeing his partner. He wasn't happy. "Far from it."

"Do you have a course for supernatural criminals?" Leah asked. "Or just the supernatural in general? You must be tired of me asking all of these questions all the time."

"It's no big deal," Jacob insisted, and then, in a light voice, "And about those classes? I don't think so, but you may want to check out Reddit. They have sub-forums for everything."

Leah scoffed. "Screw you."

Jacob chuckled, and then, "No, seriously. Hey, don't beat yourself over this. Several months ago, you didn't even know the supernatural existed. You know, the vast majority of people would have freaked the fuck out upon learning about the existence of the supernatural. But you didn't. Trust me, Leah, you don't understand how invaluable that is."

"That doesn't exactly help with my understanding—"

"Leah, if I thought you were going to take things to another level, do you honestly think I would've told you the truth about me? Or anyone else? Or be this relaxed enough to let you see my wolf?"

Jacob had a look on his face, daring for his partner to challenge him. Leah decided not to. Instead, she sighed and said, "I'll check Reddit."

* * *

Leah did check out Reddit.

It only helped somewhat.

* * *

It was just one of those days. One of those slow days when Leah would find herself spending more time behind a desk, in front of a computer, surrounded by files than outside, riding around with Jacob to follow the latest lead. It was a much needed day, in her opinion.

She was the only person sitting at a row of desks positioned along the southern half of the precinct's office space. Jacob had left about an hour ago to check up on Bella; apparently, she had something to show in regards to whatever victims had been found at Mike's. Embry had called in "sick" because of a bad cold (though Jacob was convinced it had more to do with the cop's ill-advised visit to a nightclub—not that Leah cared).

She had to admit it was different working alone for the next few hours. She was used to having Jacob and Embry by her side, keeping her company. But the solitude was welcomed in the end; she needed the peace and the time to gather her thoughts and the facts. These cases were converging into a seemingly bottomless pit of an investigation...

 _Something's gotta give_ , Leah kept on telling herself as she reviewed the row of pictures from various crime scenes with hopes that the photos would reveal some connection between the Dahlia, the slaughterhouse and Mike's incidents.

"Leah!"

Leah looked up from the photo to see Aisha heading her way with a file in her hand and a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She could have sworn the other detective had the day off. "Aren't you supposed to be at a spa?"

"I'm going tomorrow," Aisha said, pulling out the chair from Jacob's-assigned desk and sitting down, excited." Tomorrow's the spa's half-price day, and Lord knows I need to save money. But more importantly…" She dropped a hand on top of a file. "Something you'd appreciate. A lead."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Aisha wordlessly handed Leah the file.

"A pair of prints," Leah said after skimming through the folder. In her hands were a few pages— a fingerprint report, a picture of prints found in the Mike Lounge Crime scene, and a mugshot. Of a very _interesting_ man. She shut up and looked at her smirking friend. "Where the hell did you find this?"

"I got a contact in Kansas City," Aisha said as her smirk grew. "I didn't even know they kept prints from that far back."

"1932," Leah read, shaking her head in disbelief. "You got prints of Emmett McCarthy from 19-fucking-32."

"I know." Aisha grinned, proud. "I'm amazing."

"And they are a match."

"It doesn't do much in terms of probable cause," Aisha admitted. "We didn't find any weapons at Mike's, but those prints verify that Emmett was there. He was the only person we could get a positive ID."

"This can work," Leah said. "We can make him the main suspect until he decides to talk. I'm sure Paul won't throw a fit about us arresting a vampire, right?"

"Yeah, but we would have to bring our A-game when it comes to questioning and everything," Aisha reminded her friend. "Remember, Sorio is still presiding over this."

"How hasn't he been recused?"

Aisha shrugged. "For some reason, no one is really thinking about the _real_ reason why the Bureau's been snooping around."

"I thought they were keeping an eye out on the Dahlia case?"

"So, they say," Aisha said. How she always managed to find the inside scoop on _everything_ , Leah would probably never know. "But you didn't hear that from _me_."

"Never," Leah promised, and then, "Unless..." She paused, leaning against the back of her seat. "Hey, can you tell TS-2 to check any of the crime scenes for a print-match. Particularly, the slaughterhouse and Demetri's place?"

"What are you getting at?"

"If they find Emmett's prints at those places, we give them to the feds. To the ATF," Leah explained, thinking about Benjamin's case. They scratch his back, and he'd return the favor. "I know they're in the middle of a case about those ultra-violets. Sorio can't touch any of the fed-cases."

"Why do I feel like you know something that I don't?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. _That_ was a first. "When the time comes, I'll explain everything," she said. "I promise."

* * *

She told Jacob her plan sometime later when he finally returned from the Office of the Medical Examiner. He seemed a bit trouble, claiming something about the state of bodies (it was a bald-faced lie, Leah knew it the moment he opened his mouth, reserved that conversation for later).

"You want to give up _who_ to the ATF?" Jacob asked, heating his soup via the station's break room microwave. He seemed more amused than incredulous. "I thought we are supposed to be focusing on the murders…"

"I know it sounds crazy," Leah admitted. "But I have a plan."

"You always have a plan."

"Because we obviously can't do anything in this investigation by the book," Leah pointed out. She could only imagine how much information wouldn't be admitted into evidence because of some violation. And the existence of vampires and werewolves. "And it does have something to do with the murders."

Especially if Emmett's prints were miraculously discovered at Demetri's. The man was a member of the Cullen's, who were the prime suspects of Demetri's murder. It made sense.

"So, you have a plan."

Leah nodded, relieved by the lack of pushback. "Yeah, I have a plan."

* * *

Two days later, Emmett's prints were found at Demetri's apartment.

Leah almost dropped her prized fish sandwich at the news as she drove home from work.

The usual recourse was to march up to Emmett McCarthy's place of residence with handcuffs and an arrest warrant, but Leah had a plan. The arrest could wait.

* * *

"I heard you were snooping around Mike's Lounge," Leah said the following evening, taking a sip of her water purchased from an outside vendor, of course. Because despite her _supposed_ acquaintance with Rosalie Hale, she didn't entirely trust her. And she was sure that the feeling was mutual. "Or at least, what's left of it."

Rosalie snorted. The two women were sitting across from each inside the fixer's office. After hours. "Point being?"

"You know what happened," Leah stated, leaving no room for denials. She wasn't here to ask Rosalie many questions. She was here to compromise.

"There was a party that was interrupted by some unwanted guests."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "And those unwanted guests being?"

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell any member of the law enforcement community," Rosalie said, clearing her throat. She locked eyes with the detective. "Not even you."

"Off the record?" Leah suggested, leaning forward.

"There's no such thing as that anymore. Not with the stakes becoming greater every day."

"So, _this_ conversation is off the record, then?" Leah asked, watching the fixer intently. "Do you want this talk to be admitted to court as evidence?"

Rosalie let out a dry laugh. "You, know, you're becoming more persistent with your questioning than your overly persistent partner."

"So, I've been told," Leah said, and then, "How well do you know Emmett McCarthy?"

"Excuse me?"

"Emmett McCarthy," Leah said. "He's one of the more important members of the Cullen family. Enforcer, I think? Follows Edward around like a shadow? How well do you know him?"

"I thought we were only focusing on Edward Masen?"

"We were. Actually, we still are. But the thing with investigations, we never know who we find," Leah explained. She nodded when she realized that he questioned had already been answered. "So, you do know him."

Rosalie bristled but didn't put up a fight. "What do you want with him?"

"Our CSI team discovered a series of prints at Mike's," Leah said. "Emmett McCarthy being one of them. We're going to have to question him, and see what he knows."

Rosalie snorted. "Really? Now, how do you connect prints from him? Nothing's on file anymore. You know, he's technically over a hundred years old."

"Oh, I know. He was arrested back in the thirties for participating in a bar fight. We got his mugshot and everything." Leah said. "Hey, you know the deal. You work with us, the feds won't come to your office with a battering ram. At least, not anytime soon."

"Such an enticing offer…"

"I know you've had a past with Emmett, and that's fine. I'm not here to criticize you about that, but if you want to help him—"

"I pity those who've underestimated you."

"I actually think it's an advantage more than anything."

"Of all people, those cops still have his prints," Rosalie huffed and shook her head. Like Leah, she probably thought Emmett's old records would show up. It had been over eighty years. Emmett would have most likely been dead by now. He was _supposed_ to have died back in 1935, Leah had learned. Mauled by a bear.

"The Midwest is big on that," Leah said. "You know since the thirties _were_ the thirties. Outlaws and Public Number One's were everywhere. Capone. Baby Face Nelson, Dillinger—"

"I met him once."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Who, Dillinger?"

"Dillinger," Rosalie confirmed, eyes losing focus as she recalled her memories. "I knew his girl, too," she quietly said, and then quickly snapped out of her trance. She sighed. " _I get it,_ but Emmett wasn't an outlaw. He wasn't hunted down by the BOI. He was just a farm boy who got mauled by a bear..."

"He's also a mobster," Leah pointed out.

"Oh, come on, Leah, I was alive during Prohibition and after that. I _know_ what mobsters are like, and he isn't one of them. Not entirely. Emmett's a good guy, just caught up in the wrong crowd."

"He's suspected of four murders, extortion, aggravated battery..."

"He was just following orders," Rosalie contested.

Leah found the fixer's defensiveness fascinated. It was as if Emmett's "thing" for the woman wasn't unrequited as one would think. Given Rosalie's reputation. "Rosalie, you know and I know that's not going to stand as a defense in court."

"You're proposing a deal."

"We found Emmett's prints at Demetri's."

Rosalie blinked. "... You did."

"We did," Leah confirmed. "Now, you've been a lawyer long enough to know what will happen next."

"So, you _are_ proposing a deal."

"Killing off a mobster is serious," Leah said before finishing off her drink. "Especially a member of the vaulted Volturi. He will be arrested, and when he does, everyone's going to know that the Cullen's were involved in the untimely death of Caius' boy-toy."

Rosalie straightened up in his seat and finished off her glass of blood. She placed the empty glass on the table, separating her from the detective, not once removing her eyes from the other woman. "That was just the rumor."

"The way Caius' been acting suggests otherwise."

"I assume you have intel on that."

Leah did. The task force did. Paul had assigned Jared and a couple of detectives to follow the Volturi, and what they had discovered was nothing short of fascinating. Things Leah would never believe if she hadn't been presented with the evidence. Things that made her question Jane's supposed loyalty to the coven, among other things. But that was a story for later.

"We have intel on everyone."

"What does this deal entail?"

"Hand Emmett over to the ATF."

"The ATF?" Rosalie questioned. "I thought this was about a murder?"

"Or the FBI. Your pick," Leah offered. But it wasn't truly an offer, and Rosalie knew that. "But if I were him, I'd want to get in trouble for possession. Not murder-one or conspiracy."

"And at the ATF, what will happen there?"

"They'll make a deal."

"If he talks."

"That's how it always works."

"He's loyal," Rosalie insisted. "He won't say a word."

"That's what they always say," Leah replied, knowing from experience. "Until they realize how much time they're going to spend in the slammer if they don't. Vampires or humans. They're all the same in that aspect. So, Miss Hale, what do you say?"

"I will get back to you," Rosalie replied in a flat tone, but Leah had caught the flicker of anger and frustration in her eyes.

"I suppose that's as good of a deal I'm going to get at this moment." Leah let out a dramatic sigh and rose from her seat. "This conversation, is it still on the record?"

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. She was never the one to admit defeat. Leah could understand; she was the same way. "No," she gritted out. "It is not."


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

* * *

"Oh look, the Bureau's back," Jacob announced, grumbling as he handed Leah a cup of coffee, freshly-brewed in the station break room. It wasn't the strongest, giving the time of the morning, but he wasn't in the mood to go outside. "Nice way to ruin a Thursday morning."

"Like I said before," Leah reminded her partner as she kept a keen eye on Paul. She wondered if there would ever be a time when the captain would welcome the presence of the feds. According to Jacob, who was staring at the agents down as they followed Paul into his office, that would never happen. "We're gonna see a lot more of them. At least, until this mess dies down."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

"Is there a story behind your and Paul's animosity towards the FBI?" Leah asked. "Because I feel like there's a story."

Jacob eyed his partner. "There's no animosity. Distrust, more than anything." He sighed. "I guess I shouldn't hate all agents. Just some of them, you know?"

"So, there's a story," Leah confirmed.

"A long one…" Jacob trailed off as he retrieved the loudly-buzzing phone from his pants pocket. "A few missed calls— _Holy shit_."

"What?"

"Sasha and Vasili's bodies are at the morgue," Jacob carefully read, eyes wide. "They've been returned."

Leah blinked. Goodness, she had almost forgotten about them and the fact that they had been stolen. "You're messing with me." She snatched the phone her partner's hand and quickly skimmed the message. "They're messing with me."

"Given what's been happening over the past few weeks, I highly doubt that," Jacob said. "We should go there. ASAP. Bella is probably going to do a quick autopsy, just in case."

Leah loudly exhaled. She should have known she would be stuck on babysitting duty. "You go, and take Embry with you," she said, catching Paul's stormy expression through his glass open walls. "I'll stay back and make sure Paul doesn't try to strangle anyone, which is possible. So, you better hurry up."

* * *

Jacob and Embry explained everything to Paul and Leah upon their return from the Office of the Medical Examiner. According to them, according to Bella, the bodies of Sasha and Vasili Denali just... showed up. No one knew how it happened; only that they must have been dropped off between midnight and six in the morning, right before Bella and Eric had arrived for work.

"Any speculation of a suspect?" Paul asked.

Jacob and Embry shook their heads.

"The bodies didn't have any evidence," Jacob said. "They looked just like they always had been, frozen and partially dissected. They were placed in the same frozen, the same drawer under the same name."

Even though Leah found this entire situation interesting, her focus was primarily on Jacob. He was tense, sitting uncomfortably in that chair. He had been stiff since returning to the station. She wondered if Embry had picked up on it, too.

"Something must have compelled the thieves to bring them back," Embry said. "I mean, it's been, how long, _months_ since the bodies first disappeared?"

"It was probably the Olympic," Leah suggested. "The Cullen's and the Denali's seemed to be hell-bent on making sure no autopsy is performed on anyone associated with them. That's what they did with Jessica."

"Any update on her?" Paul asked.

Leah shook her head. "Jenks is still jammed up. Sorio isn't helping matters, as usual."

"One of these days, that man's gonna get what's coming for him," Jacob vowed. "It will be glorious."

"So, what should we do about the bodies?" Leah asked the captain. "We're investigating their murder—"

"Inconclusive death," Jacob corrected. "That's what Bella's going to rule their death as."

"That's the official story; we're looking for the unofficial version. That was one hundred percent murder," Paul told everyone. "I've been rumors that the Volturi had something to do with it. Something about breaking a cardinal rule?"

"The anti-vampire-baby rule," Embry said.

Leah lightly snorted, although that did seem to be the best description of said rule. "The Volturi are the gatekeepers for vampire-ethics. Obviously, they should be brought in, but that Deal..."

"We won't be able to get them into the interview room without getting our heads chewed out by the higher powers," Jacob pointed out. "Arrest warrants won't do a damn thing—"

"Unless you give the case to the feds," Embry offered. He continued when everyone gave him a look. "That'll make them cooperate. I'm sure the Bureau will appreciate the offer and maybe get off your back, once and for all, Paul."

* * *

As soon as the meeting was over, Jacob pulled Leah aside and directed her into an old storage closet, located in the musty basement of the precinct. Before she could protest, he shut the door behind it and began to pace around the confined room. He made no effort to turn on the light.

Leah just stood there, arms crossed, trying her best to follow her partner's move in the darkness. She had given the man about ten seconds to explain himself before speaking up, "Jacob, what the hell's going on? And why the hell are we in a storage—"

"She kissed me."

Leah stopped and blinked, feeling like she was back in fucking high school, talking about crushes under the bleaches or some shit—but this wasn't high school. They were at work, on the clock, supposed to be hopping into Jacob's car and following leads. Not in some dingy storage closet full of dust that was most likely causing some irreparable damage to her lungs. "Who kissed you?"

She shouldn't even be entertaining this.

"Bella."

Leah's eyes widened. "Uh... what?"

Jacob gave her a _look_. "You heard me."

Yes, she did, but she still doubted if she had heard her partner correctly. And—this explained so much. His change in mood. Embry's concerned glances. Jacob's minimal mention of Bella. "...why?"

Jacob let out a frustrated sound. "Why does anyone?"

"Well..." Leah trailed off, clasping her hands in front of her. She honestly didn't see this coming, especially the fact that it had been Bella who initiated it. Since when was the medical examiner interested in Jacob? Leah bit her lip and asked, "Did you—?"

"C'mon Leah," Jacob grumbled. "I told you already. I ain't interested."

Which had always thrown Leah off because everyone and their mother knew the man had a crush on the coroner. Or, at least, he used to have one. Jacob hadn't talked about Bella in that aspect in a very long time. And Rebecca had been insistent, and her brother was only through a phase...

"Well, you never know. Maybe a date or two—"

"I'm not interested."

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't know what to do, and you're... you're here."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me for… advice?"

Jacob gulped loudly. "Yes?"

Leah glanced at the door and shook her head, sighing. "I can't believe— Be honest with her," she offered. "Beating around the bush isn't going to do anyone any good. You know that."

"I know that..."

Leah stared at her partner and sighed. "It's going to be fine," she said, not actually knowing _what_ to say. She had always been bad at this. "You're going to be fine, just... talk to her, I guess. Once the dust settles."

* * *

Towards the end of the workday, as Leah was, once again, in the processing for finishing up reports while investigating via the internet, she took a short break and looked beyond her computer screen, right at her busy partner. "Did you talk to her?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell her you're not interested?"

"Yes, I gave her the 'We Should Be Just Friends' speech," Jacob replied as he continued to type. "It was awkward as hell."

"Those conversations generally are," Leah said, sitting back up and searching via Google for nearby homeless centers. She was hoping that one of these places housed Bree during her time away from home. "How did she take it?"

"She seemed surprised."

"At herself or at your response?"

"The latter."

"Oh," Leah said, shifting her attention to her partner for a brief moment, and then upon realizing, "She knew about your crush on her..."

"Leah, I'm pretty sure the whole damn country did."

"You need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "I do _not_ wear my heart on my sleeve."

"If that's what you want to believe..." Leah mumbled, clicking open a directory site and skimming the contents. It didn't give her what she needed.

Jacob snorted, defensive. "I'm working on it, okay?"

"Why aren't you interested?" Leah asked.

"I'm positive we've had this conversation before."

"Well, you're the one who brought her up again during lunch," Leah reminded Jacob. In reality, she didn't have to bring Bella up. She could have just ignored it, but she could tell that her partner was still bothered by it, evens hours after the incident—and that simply wouldn't do. There should only be one person in their partnership that should have frustrating love lives. Not both. "So, I'm guessing you still want to talk about it."

Jacob sighed, and then, "Have you ever had someone who you thought was attractive and nice, and that's just it? You weren't trying to marry them or anything. Maybe introduce her to your parents and sisters once in a blue moon, but nothing serious."

"Sure. We all have crushes." Leah shrugged, leaning over to the side to get a better view of Jacob. "Why is it bothering you? It was just a kiss. People with crushes would have enjoyed that."

"Because I know she doesn't like me that way. She's never liked me that way," Jacob replied honestly. "At first it sucked, but now, I'm over it. Moved on."

"Ah." Leah sat up straight. "So, that kiss... you think she didn't have any feelings about it. She just wanted to see how you react, and then figure out what to do from there. Maybe entertain you with a date. Maybe even more... But you both would know it wouldn't be real."

"Exactly," Jacob said. "It would have been a waste of everyone's time."

"Well then, I stand by what I said earlier: this, too, shall pass," Leah said. It was so… she didn't know...talking about this, not because of the topic itself, but because Leah was downright terrible at this. She couldn't even get her husband to be frank with her, what made Jacob think she could help with this? But she supposed she could only try. "This is Bella we're talking about. She doesn't give me the vindictive vibe so I doubt she'd screw us over because you refused to screw her."

"Thank you, Leah," Jacob said, part joking, part grateful. "I would forever appreciate your words of wisdom."

"You're very welcome, Jacob," Leah replied, and then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Now, go back to work and stop moping over a girl you _didn't_ want."

"I wasn't—" Jacob stopped, glancing at his partner. His expression softened a bit, but it dropped when Embry finally sat down at his seat, complaining about working long days. "Yeah, you're right."

At the corner of her eye, Leah caught Jared snatching up a couple of pages from the office printer and skimming over them, deeply frowning. She didn't think much of it until she realized that he was heading her way.

She motioned Jacob and Embry to pay attention, but they quickly dismissed it, returning to their reports. She wasn't offended; these damn reports would be the death of her (and she would have to deal with them until she retired).

"Good afternoon, Jared," Leah started when Jared reached her, stiff as ever. She quickly saved her report. "What can we help you with?"

Jacob and Embry waited for an answer.

"We got a missing person's report," the cop said, "I thought you'd like to check it out."

"Who is it?" Jacob asked.

Jared handed Leah the pages, and replied, "Lauren Mallory," only pausing when the cops gasped, eyes widening in disbelief. "Age 22. Originally from Aurora but has been living in Edgewater for the past couple of years. She was reported missing yesterday by concerned relatives. No one has heard from her since Memorial Day Weekend."

"Of course, they didn't..." Jacob trailed off, closing his eyes and sighing, resigned.

Embry just blinked, excessively, and Leah swallowed the lump in her throat.

Lauren-fucking-Mallory.

Leah cursed to herself. How could she have forgotten about Lauren? She was a witness. She had been Jessica's roommate; she was the last person—who was cooperating— who had seen Jessica alive. She had been at the partner, flirting with Carlisle-fucking-Cullen. She would have been there when the grenades went off when the shooting began. She would have seen everything—and Leah had forgotten about her. It was an honest mistake, she knew it, but she feared it would be a costly one.

The cops were supposed to speak to Lauren the Monday following that goddamn party.

"Fuck my life," Embry remarked. He slapped his forehead. "Really fuck my life."

* * *

"Somebody tell me something."

Paul wasn't angry, not like the way he had been on the night of the ambush. He was sitting at his desk, hands behind his head, feet on the table, looking more... not surprised by the new development.

"She was there," Jacob said. "She was at the party. I don't know how she got in or why, but she was there."

Leah hated the fact that Jacob felt compelled always to take one of the team during uncomfortable conversations. She hated the fact that she allowed it (and that Embry seemed perfectly fine with it).

"And where did she go?"

"We don't know," Leah told the captain. "Everything went to hell when the explosion happened. She wasn't confirmed as one of the dead, so she's most likely still alive."

"Or dead," Jacob said. "She's a witness. They may get rid of her before she can start talking."

"Then they would have killed her then and there," Leah countered. "Why whisk her away?"

"Maybe none of them took her?" Embry offered. "Maybe she just escaped and hiding out of fear for her life?"

"Find out where she is and fast."

* * *

"Sometimes, I really hate my job," Leah complained at her desk as she read through Lauren's missing person's report for the umpteenth time. She had wished she had received this news last week; maybe they could do something about it. "She's been missing for almost two weeks now. _Two weeks_."

"That's a very long time to be missing, by the way. Usually, that means she's dead," Embry pointed out. "In a ditch somewhere."

"Or, she could be alive," Leah countered. "Which for our cases, really needs to be the case. She lived with Jessica. She went to a goddamn vampire party; she must know more than she's letting on. I mean, how on earth did she get an invitation to that party?"

Jacob shrugged before picking up the phone and quickly dialing a number. "Hey, Paul, how quickly can we get a search warrant into Lauren's place?" He smiled at the captain's response. "Thanks, man."

"How long?" Embry asked.

"A couple of hours," Jacob replied, scribbling a note on a piece of paper. "The court's all tied up with today's trial."

"Oh, right," Embry said. "I forgot about that."

So, did Leah. Occasionally, she had to remind herself that other crimes were being committed besides the investigated by the task force. "Was it the armed robbery one?"

"Yep," Jacob said. "Thankfully for us, Sorio's out of the office for the next month. On vacation. So, there's an adjunct."

"Right," Leah said, and then, "An honest one?"

Jacob shrugged. "He seems decent enough. Paul claims he has no connections to the Cullen's or the Volturi, so that's a plus." He slapped a hand on his desk. "Hurry up with what you're doing; there's someone we have to visit. Someone who may give us some insight into this Lauren Mallory."

"Who, her parents?" Embry asked.

"No, Alistair."

* * *

"You're Paul's alpha."

"Excuse me?"

The detectives were in their car again, heading to the penthouse of the infamous Alistair. They didn't have a search warrant or even a subpoena. Jacob's wonderful, fool-proof plan was to burst into the man's home with a picture of Lauren Mallory in his hands, demanding an explanation from the vampire or else there would be hell to pay.

Leah was still convinced that she was there to prevent Jacob from punching Alistair.

"That night. When the ambush happened, and Paul was five seconds away from shifting and you kinda, somehow, stopped it." Leah explained the best she could. Because that moment had been _weird_. Everyone in that office, except her, as usual, had known what was going on. "Remember?"

"How did you reach that conclusion?"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "You're not denying it."

"I need to watch what I do and say around you," Jacob said, sheepishly shaking his head, and then, "I don't do that often, by the way. I'm not one of those micro-managers; it's too fucking exhausting, and it doesn't help with morale."

"But that night...?"

"I didn't want Paul to cause a scene," Jacob said as if it was the most obvious thing. "So, I did what I did."

"You know, you could have just denied everything."

"I could," Jacob admitted. "But apparently I can't lie to you."

"Everyone can lie," Leah contended, feeling a bit… she didn't know about that response. She wished Jacob didn't say things like that. "And does."

"Aren't you a cynic?"

"It makes life easier, " Leah said, and it was just then, as Jacob stopped at the red light when she realized that Embry had been in the back seat of the car, the entire time. Not saying a word, but paying close attention to the detective's conversation.

She glanced back at him.

He didn't say a word. He just smirked at her with one eyebrow raised.

* * *

The trio eventually arrived at Alistair's penthouse, after spending an extra half an hour, sitting in traffic. Jacob decided that he would interview with Leah while Embry stood outside of the room, engaging in an intense staring contest with Alistair's receptionist.

"She was not one of my girls," Alistair said inside his living room, glancing at the photo. He didn't seem too impressed with the woman's glamour shot, made during her amateur-Instagram model phase.

"Have you met her before?" Jacob asked.

"Once," Alistair admitted, reaching over his glass table for a Cuban cigar. He offered one to the detectives; they both declined. Shrugging, he lit up the tobacco and carried on, "It was not anything special. Jessica had bought her around in hopes of doing things together. Some people deem it safer that way. Why go to someone's place alone when you can tag along with a friend and get paid more?"

"Why didn't you choose her?" Leah asked. She could already think of a few laws the man admitted to breaking in his last statement, but she would worry about a plea deal at a later time. "She's pretty enough."

"Yes, but she lacked grace," Alistair replied before taking a long drag. He glanced at the photo again and shook his head. "Too… what's the term the youth use these days? _Thirsty_ for my liking."

Jacob raised an eyebrow.

Leah never wanted to hear such a word coming out of the mouth of Alistair ever again. She paraphrased Alistair's statement in her notepad. "I thought it all for the love of the money?"

"It is," Alistair replied. "But it does not mean you reveal _all_ of your intentions on a silver platter in front of the clients. Most of them are entirely aware that the relationship is not based on love. But for that brief time, you have to convince them otherwise. You have to sell them a fantasy. "

"And you didn't think she had what it took?" Jacob asked.

"No."

"Do you any idea why she would be invited to a Cullen party?" Leah asked.

"Heavens no." Alistair let out a chuckle, dismissing the implication with the wave of his hand. "Esme has enough to deal with one mistress—well, one former mistress. Why torture herself with another?"

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "Maybe she didn't know?"

"Oh, she _would_ know," Alistair said, insistent. He took another drag before carrying on, "Do not let her demeanor fool you, Detective. Everything Carlisle does, she knows about. Whether he admits it or not." He faced Leah. "Why are you asking about her anyway?"

"She's missing."

Alistair leaned forward to crush his cigar in his gold ashtray. He sat back, raised an eyebrow, and replied, void of any concern, "How unfortunate."

* * *

"I have a plan."

Admittedly, it wasn't a well-thought-out one. At least, not yet and God forbid, it leaked out to the media. But it might be crazy enough to work. It would involve Jenks and some backdoor tactics. The courts couldn't know— Sorio would shoot that down in a blink of an eye. And Paul, he could find out at a better timing; he wouldn't necessarily be upset, but he had spent the past forty-eight grueling hours dealing with his supervisors and the feds.

Jacob raised an eyebrow as he reached for his early morning coffee. "You've been having plenty of plans lately. What's this one?"

"The Emmett-ATF plan is going as excepted, thank you. Anyway, I have a plan to get Lauren back," Leah replied, leaning over her desk, whispered again. She retreated and gave her partner a nod. "Preferably alive, of course, but you just have to trust me on this one."

Jacob studied Leah for a moment before giving her an assuring grin. "When haven't I trusted you?"

Leah couldn't think of a good reply. Not on the whim, at least. Instead, she gave Jacob a half smile and said, "Thanks."

"Just don't do anything too illegal, alright?"

Leah let out a dry laugh. She would probably never get over the faith her partner had in her. If he had been the others, he would have likely reported her to the captain. Some had done worse. "Alright."

* * *

"I got your leverage."

Jenks sat up in his office chair and glanced up at the clock, hanging above his door. Eight-seventeen in the evening. His attention shifted to the detective, standing at his door. "What?"

Leah approached the prosecutor and pulled out a file folder from under her arm and slapped it on the prosecutor's desk. "I got your leverage," she repeated.

Jenks stared at the detective with a mix of confusion, apprehension, and curiously. He slowly picked up the folder, opened it, and pulled out the report. He skimmed it, glanced up at the detective, and then back down. "And why is she important?"

"Because _she_ is Lauren Mallory. _She_ was the roommate of Jessica Stanley. _She_ was the one who spoke to us about Sulpicia's necklace. Completely cooperative with the investigation," Leah explained. " _She_ was also at Mike's on the night of the ambush—which my team I were planning to talk to her about. And, now, she's missing. Along with Mike Newton."

"Together?"

"We're not sure."

"Maybe she's one of the dead?"

"She isn't."

Jenks took a deep breath. "I'll talk to Rosalie."

Leah nodded. This was the best course of action because she knew she couldn't speak to Rosalie face-to-face. She was giving the lawyer some space. Rosalie hadn't been too happy with Leah's plan to make Emmett somewhat communicate. She hadn't heard anything from the fixer about the deal, not that she fully expected to. Rosalie had one more week to mull things over before Leah had no choice but to get the FBI involved and toss every RICO statute under the sun at Emmett.

A part of the detective cringed at the thought of dangling a possible kidnapping in front of mobsters. It wasn't entirely ethical, but she supposed that if a superior asked about it, she had a pretty decent excuse—she was essentially killing two birds with one stone.

"Thank you."

Jenks placed the report back into the file folder and leaned back in his seat with his hands behind his head. "And Detective Uley?"

"Yes, Counselor?"

"This conversation never happened."

"Of course, not," Leah said, smirking. "Have a good night."

"You as well."

* * *

"Uley," Leah said, nearly dropping the phone that was balancing between her ear and shoulder. The timing of this seemingly important called was, she supposed, untimely as she placed her groceries at a local supermarket. Thankfully, she was the only one in line. "Hey, Jenks, I'll call you later—"

"Three days."

"What?"

"That's how long they have to bring Lauren back."

"Wait—" Leah stopped and then took the milk out of her basket, rechecking the expiration date. She soon put it down as well. " _How_?"

"Leverage," the prosecutor said, dropping to a whisper. It sounded like he was entering an elevator. "A deal had to be made."

"Which calls for…?"

"I'll talk to you late, Detective. Stop by tomorrow after work."

* * *

"Rosalie Hale is willing to convince Sorio to drop the injunction contingent on me not providing the feds any information in regards to her client's connection to the Mike's Lounge Incident."

"The Cullen's are suspects…" Leah slowly reminded the prosecutor. "Hold up, isn't that illegal?"

"Not unless I'm subpoenaed," Jenks said. "I don't view this as obstruction. As far as the feds are concerned, they're treating the ambush as a domestic terrorism incident involving the supernatural. We're not involved, thanks to the Deal."

"But Paul's taskforce…"

"It technically doesn't exist, remember?" Jenks pointed out and then sighed. "When Lauren returns, would you like us to send her to Paul?"

"You seem extremely confident about her reappearance."

"I don't want to sound like some Godfather-impersonator, but I did make Rosalie, and by extension, her clients, an offer they couldn't refuse."

* * *

"Jasper's searching for your girl," Benjamin told both Leah and Jacob the following evening. He was about a couple feet away from Jacob's car, sitting in his respective vehicle. A simple black 2016 Toyota Camry, nothing too flashy. Nothing for anyone to notice. It had been a couple of minutes since the detectives and the undercover agent arrived at their meeting place—an abandoned parking lot in Albany Park—and it had been quiet. But they all knew they couldn't stay here longer, even if it were near midnight.

"Should we be concerned about?" Jacob asked.

The detectives exchanged looks.

Leah waited for the undercover agent's answer from her passenger seat.

Benjamin shook his head. "No, he's on strict orders not to kill her."

"Why is he searching for her now?" Leah asked, still not believing she was involved in this mess. Admittedly, it was pretty exciting, but a part of her wished she was simply working on a simple homicide case. Not a conspiracy involving the supernatural, murder and now, kidnapping— But she couldn't worry about that now.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you know that your ADA and Hale have their little, under the table deals."

Jacob looked at Leah and smirked, seemingly proud. She had told him everything Jenks had told her. By the upcoming Monday, Jenks had said, Lauren would be back in Chicago by then. "Ah, yes." Then Jacob turned the key in his ignition. "Hey, man, let us know when she gets back?" he requested. "We need to talk to her."

"Sure thing." The agent said, giving a thumbs up, and then, "So...?"

"Oh, right," Leah dug into her pocket, pulled out a folded note, and handed it over to Benjamin. It wasn't much, just written notes. After he quickly read it, she continued,

"According to our source, Victoria had a hand in the ambush, but there's a possibility that the Volturi is somehow behind this. They could've contracted Victoria to do the hit. She has an incentive to do so, and she's pretty strapped for cash."

Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Are you surprised?" Jacob asked. "Tanya's been raiding all of Victoria's warehouses for UV's and blood.

"Ah, that explains the shipment from a couple of weeks ago," the agent said, nodding. "See, nobody tells me things." He shrugged, not concerned. "Just brought in a truck-full last week."

"Where are these warehouses?"

"Somewhere in the Southside," Benjamin said. "And there's two near Midway."

"Any near the Stock Yards?"

"There's a couple, including the one where all those people were found."

* * *

It appeared that the Assistant District Attorney, Jason Jenks, knew what he was talking about.

Jacob, Leah, and Embry promised to compile funds and buy the man the most expensive liquor they could afford.

* * *

"Thank you, Miss Mallory, for meeting with us."

Leah resisted the urge to pinch herself as she sat in front of the person she expected to see so soon: Lauren Mallory, in the flesh.

It was Monday afternoon, approximately twenty minutes after the detectives found the young woman sitting calmly in the precinct waiting area, wishing to talk to the detectives. Leah and Jacob had to do a double-take. Soon after, the duo had agreed that Leah should do most of the talking, while Jacob observed. It was better that way. Leah was known to be less aggressive during question than Jacob who would just go straight to the point— a tactic that worked with assholes, like Edward, but might turn people off like Lauren.

The look on Lauren's face said that she was confident, but there was a sense of anxiety surrounded her, which hadn't been there fifteen minutes ago. No, fifteen minutes ago, Lauren had been sitting down, waiting for the detectives to fetch her, with her head up high like she was about to send everyone who had done her wrong right to the slammer.

Leah wondered where the anxiety came from. She hadn't asked anything thought-provoking. Jacob's stance was relaxed, slouching in his seat, playing with a coin between his thumb and pointer finger. The detectives had no intention of arresting the woman. They wanted to talk to her, and she wanted to speak to them; it was all mutual.

The last thing Leah wanted was for Lauren to be uncomfortable. Uncomfortable meant that the subject's walls would never falter. They would result in blank stares, useless, guarded one-word answers, and would end up being a waste of time.

"There's no need to call me that," Lauren replied lightly, giving both Leah and Jacob, who were sitting across from her, a small, nervous smile. She did the same for Embry who was leaning against the interview door, arms crossed, expression uncharacteristically serious. This wouldn't be a normal conversation, nothing like the one had months ago in Lauren's apartment. This was much serious. "Lauren's just fine."

"Lauren," Leah tried, pushing the cup of water in Lauren's direction. The young woman had swallowed a few times, clearing her throat. She glanced at Jacob, waiting for some confirmation to continue. When he nodded, she carried on. "We're glad to see you in good shape."

Lauren took a sip of water and raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Should I not be?"

"Your friends reported you missing the Sunday before Memorial Day," Jacob told her. "They seemed alarmed so we treated your supposed disappearance as a kidnapping."

"I wasn't kidnapped," Lauren stressed, eyebrows drawing together. She appeared offended that Jacob would even suggest such a thing.

"Okay, you weren't kidnapped," Leah said, deciding to play along. "Then why couldn't anyone reach you, and why are you here?"

Lauren hesitated, staring at her half-filled cup of water. She picked up the cup and quickly emptied it.

"I have a conscious, you know," she quietly replied. "I couldn't just stay quiet."

"You need a lawyer," Jacob said.

"Do I?" Lauren questioned. "I didn't do anything wrong. At all. Especially after what happened with Jessica? I'm not trying to land in jail or what."

"What are you here to discuss?" Leah asked.

"These past few days," Lauren started, swallowing. "Been insane, I tell you. _Insane_. All I wanted to do was have a good time. Go to a party. Have some drinks. Meet with some people. Make a connection. _That was it_."

"It was a private party," Jacob said. "How did you get an invitation?"

"Apparently this party was months in the making," Lauren said, shrugging. "Jessica had invited me. I saw the invite on my table a few days before—she would have wanted me to go."

"And you went by yourself?" Leah asked, writing in her note pad.

Lauren held her head up high. "I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Lauren's eyes flickered to Leah's face. "It was alright." She shrugged. "It wasn't my scene, and then, of course, everything got crazy real fast."

Leah shifted in her seat and folded her hands on the table. "Let's talk about that. What happened?"

"I don't know," "One moment everything was normal, and then the next, there was this huge boom, and then there was smoke and fire and… the shooting."

"How did you escape?"

"By the grace of God, that's how," Lauren replied, dropping her gaze. "Mike Newton, you know, the owner, was there and he pushed me down this hole in the ground right after the shooting began. And then I followed him through the tunnel…"

"And what happened after that?"

Lauren blinked. "What happened?"

"Your friends reported you missing that weekend," Jacob told Lauren.

"Missing?" Lauren gasped, and then, "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Damn it, I just couldn't—" Lauren stopped to catch a breath. "I— everything was so crazy. I had to leave Chicago because what if the gunmen hunt me down? What could I have done? I wasn't involved in any of that mess..."

"You wanted to disappear," Leah confirmed.

"I would've come back," Lauren insisted vehemently. "I swear, but..."

"Where did you go?"

"We just traveled on 80-West until we reached Nebraska. Even for a moment, thought about going up to Canada, but of course, since this happened so fast, we didn't have our passports..."

The detective shared a look.

"Who's _we_?" Jacob asked.

Lauren froze.

"Who's _we_?" Jacob asked again.

Leah patiently waited for the young woman to compose herself. It had obviously been a slip. What Lauren had meant to say was _she_. She wasn't supposed to mention anyone else.

Lauren's gaze shifted to the area where the white wall met the carpeted floor. "Mike..." she finally said in a whisper.

"As in Mike Newton?" Leah wanted to clarify.

"Yes."

"Why the hesitation?"

"He—I'll have you know, he didn't do anything wrong," Lauren started vehemently. "In fact, he was the one who saved my life. He was the one who got me out of that club, and into his car... we drove out west until we hit Nebraska, and then, _he_ found us."

Leah decided to drop the Mike-subject until later. "Who?"

"I didn't catch his actual name, but Mike called him, Cigar… no, Sicario."

Jacob, as if all of his questions had just been answered, leaned back in his seat with both eyebrows raised and a hand on his chin. He used the other hand to write down the woman's statement quickly.

"Description?" Leah asked although she honestly didn't have to get one. She knew exactly whom Lauren was talking about.

"Pale, really pale," Lauren quietly replied. "Blond shoulder length hair? But it was puffy sort of. Wavy, I guess? He was handsome, but like in an old-school way. Like someone from the seventies. Like he was in a seventies rock band, or something—Mike was scared of him."

"Did this man hurt you?"

"No," Lauren said, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "All he did was gave Mike a look. I can't really describe it, but Mike freaked out and ordered me to go with him."

"Where's Mike now?" Leah then asked.

Lauren's body stiffened _again_. She visibly swallowed, gaze dropped to the table, mumbling something under her breath that Leah couldn't catch (but Jacob might have). "Uh..." she started.

"It wouldn't be in your best interests to come up with a lie," Leah reminded the young woman. "Be honest. We promise you're not in trouble."

"Promise," Jacob added.

Lauren kept her gaze glued to the table, blinking occasionally. Based on her body language, she wanted the detectives to squash the topic. Talk about, perhaps, Jessica or just what happened at the party like Lauren had planned. But they weren't going to let this question go. The look in Leah's eye when she finally gained enough courage to glance up told her so.

"I wasn't trying to lie," Lauren finally said.

Jacob was becoming impatient. "Just tell us where Mike is."

"I don't know—"

" _Lauren_."

"I don't know," Lauren maintained, gulping a few times before carrying on, "He came back with me, back to Chicago, but as soon as I got to Buffalo Grove, he disappeared."

"Why were you so hesitant to tell us this if you just didn't know?" Jacob asked, folded his hands on the desk, leaning forward, studying the woman in front of him intently.

"I wasn't supposed to say anything," Lauren quietly admitted, peeking in the direction of the entrance.

Leah raised an eyebrow. So, Lauren wasn't supposed to open her mouth, and yet she was still here, still talking, not looking like she wanted to bolt out of the room despite being uncomfortable. Leah made a note of that. "Who told you that?"

Lauren sighed, tracing the rim of her cup with a finger. "Rosalie Hale."

Leah would have been surprised (and a bit disappointed) if Rosalie hadn't said anything to Lauren. From a practical sense, especially for those who didn't trust the law, not talking was the smartest thing to do. But Leah didn't want to think Lauren didn't trust the law; if she hadn't, she wouldn't have taken the risk to come to Paul's.

"Do you have reasons to fear for your life?" Leah asked.

Lauren blinked a couple of times before shaking her head. "Absolutely not."

Leah maintained a steady gaze. Lauren was lying; Leah knew, and Jacob knew it. She didn't understand why Lauren was lying through her teeth. The detective hadn't been the one to call her, insisting on a conversation. She came here out of her own free will.

"So, no threats were made?"

Lauren repeated her answer.

Jacob leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, practically leering at the woman who refused to meet his gaze. "Not to be mean, but, Lauren, I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's the truth."

Lauren was being defensive, Leah picked up. Her guard was up. Her stance was far stiffer than before. The detective resisted an urge to snort; Lauren hadn't prepared for this conversation at all.

"Are you willing to testify in front of a grand jury?" Leah asked, changing the subject. It was the most important question of this entire conversation. Nothing much would matte if Lauren refused to sit on the witness stand.

"I don't know what I want or willing to do," Lauren said, dropping her shoulders, but she wasn't feeling any better. She looked moments away from crying. "I just want to forget about all of this, and—"

"With all due respect, Lauren, you should have thought about that before attending that party," Leah said. She hated blaming the victim, but damn Lauren should have used better judgment. "You are a witness whether you like it or not. So, let me ask you again: are you willing to testify as a witness when the time comes?"

"Am I in trouble?"

"Like we said before," Jacob said. "We're not after you. We only need your help. You don't have to give us an answer right this moment." He gave Leah a quick look. "But it would greatly help our investigation if you do."

"You'd need a lawyer first," Leah explained. "Anything you agree to here is unofficial. Once you get counsel, we can think about making a deal."

Lauren looked between the detectives, terrified. "I thought I wasn't in trouble?"

"You're not," Jacob said. "But you're still a part of this investigation."

"How do you feel about witness protection?"

"It's horrible."

"But you'd be alive."

Lauren shifted her gaze from Leah to Jacob and back. She sat up tall in her seat, trying to remain strong, unfazed by the past events, but she knew deep inside, the young woman knew the mess she found herself in. "I don't want it."

Jacob let out a frustrated sigh.

Leah couldn't say she was too surprised. She had a stubborn nature her, something Leah knew all too well. But that didn't mean the detective would give up. "Lauren, you attended a party hosted by mobsters. You were there when the ambush happened, so you know that these people are capable of. You've already seen what happened to your friend—you need protection."

For a second, Leah thought she got to Lauren, but before she could say anything else, Lauren let out a huff. "I'm fine," she insisted despite the concern looks on the detectives' faces. "Honest. I don't plan on staying in Chicago for much longer."

Jacob let out a huff, and then said, "You are aware that these people will follow you out of Chicago, right? They know who you are."

"I'll be fine," Lauren stressed.

Leah and Jacob shared an exasperated look.

* * *

"So, are you telling me, Captain Paul Lahote, that we can't _compel_ Lauren to go under witness protection?"

That was exactly what Paul was telling Jacob. That was exactly what Lauren had told Jacob moments after letting Lauren walk.

"Yes," Paul said, leaning back to put his feet on his desk. He wasn't happy about this, Leah could definitely tell, but he was resigned.

"But what happens when the trial comes?" Jacob said, moments away from pulling his hair out. "It's gonna be hard for her to testify if she's missing again. Or worse."

"The mob does like to off witnesses, boss," Embry added.

Paul rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Does she even have a lawyer?"

"No," Leah replied. "She seems to think she knows what she's doing."

* * *

"She's as good as dead."

Leah sighed as she watched Lauren Mallory entered a cab through the precinct windows. She wished she could hold the woman back. Maybe talk some more sense into her, but she didn't have the authority. No one really did unless they planned on arresting her. But on what grounds? Being a witness? Attending a party? Being the roommate of a murder victim? Once Lauren obtained a lawyer, the precinct would get chewed up, and Paul didn't need that—all Leah could do was hope for the best.

"Oh, come on, Jacob," Embry said, fishing for some pocket change; he was eyeing the candy bar in the vending machine next to him. "Don't you have any faith in humanity?"

"Oh, I have faith in humanity," Jacob said, and then cursed as Lauren's car drove away. "But I ain't dumb. They're gonna find out, whether she decides to testify or not, and then hunt her down for being a rat."

"She's convinced she'll be fine," Leah said, still trying to convince herself of such. Lauren seemed to have her head on straight, relatively-speaking; she must be aware of the dangers and maybe, just maybe, took some precautions. "She's a grown woman. She can make her own decisions."

"I'm not saying that she can't. It's that—Jasper can sense emotions," Jacob argued, turning around and heading back to the open office space. He seemed troubled. "He'll smell it off her—"

"But what makes you think his senses are perfect," Leah challenged. "After all, isn't Benjamin roaming around the coven, seemingly untouched? Now, unless Jasper is in on it, he may not be aware of our informant's true allegiance."

"So, you think Lauren can pull this off?" Embry asked.

"Well, she's lasted this far," Leah replied, shrugging. "Maybe she'll surprise us—but enough about Lauren, for now. We have to do something about Mike's. He's MIA."

"Paul said he already assigned a couple of guys to it," Jacob said. "Don't worry. He'll be back."

"And what if he doesn't?" Leah challenged.

"He'll be back."


	21. Chapter 21

**Twenty One**

* * *

Leah hadn't heard from her husband in over a month.

The first couple of weeks had been fine. A relief, even. She hadn't wanted to see him, hear from him, or simply deal with him at any level. The third and fourth weeks had been... okay. With everything happening at work, Leah hadn't had time to have a decent night sleep, let alone worry about Sam (or his consistently annoying, pregnant mistress who just happened to be her cousin). She had been relying on Aisha's status on the man, and it had been working perfectly fine.

But then _Mike's_ happened.

She couldn't get it out of her mind.

"Everything's going well," Aisha had insisted. It had been the night following the ambush, and Leah couldn't help but wonder if Sam had been affected by it. She hadn't, and still wouldn't, know much about his assignment except that it involved the covens and their affiliates.

A part of Leah wanted to kick herself for bothering the other detective for the umpteenth time. After all, it had been the evening, following a long, tiresome day for each member of the "Voldemort" taskforce. A bigger part of her couldn't help but thank goodness that she had a friend like Aisha who, after all this time, would still entertain her questions— sort of. Aisha had been vague once again.

"So, you're not going to tell me anything," Leah had said, not surprised. Though there would always be a glimmer of hope in the universe. "No details."

"I can't," Aisha had said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "You know the rules. Just know that he's doing his job, and he's doing it right. You'll see soon enough. We talk once every two weeks, barring an unexpected event."

 _Sounds about right_ , Leah had thought, and then asked, perhaps against her better judgment, but the question had nagged her since the last time she had spoken to her husband, "Does he ask about me?"

"I never bring you up.

Leah slightly smiled; she would always appreciate her friend's consideration. Her eyes flickered across the bedroom, at a small table sitting under the double-windows, at a picture standing atop of it. The only photo, it had seemed, of the formally happy couple that hadn't been tossed away. It had been taken earlier in their careers— She shook her head and continued to press on, "Yeah, but does he?"

"All the time," Aisha had admitted.

"Sincere?"

"Somehow, every single damn time."

"Does he mention _her_?"

As expected, Aisha hadn't immediately responded, but she hadn't needed to. Leah could practically sense the pity through the sound waves; she hated it. "I'm not supposed to know about Emily," Aisha had pointed out. "Remember?"

Yeah, she had. It had been one of the first things she had told her friend, back in December. There had been enough rumors going around; she hadn't needed more. "Right," Leah had whispered. Emily. Emily and Sam— _fuck_ , she supposed to have gotten over this months ago. She supposed to have moved on, but that last conversation with Sam had taken a permanent residence in her mind. "For how much longer does he have to be a ghost?"

"At this rate, most likely until the end of the years. Perhaps January," Aisha had replied. Her response had been the same since the beginning. Leah had been hopeful that one of these days, the answer would change. "It's at Paul's discretion," her friend continued, "But you know, if it gets too hot, Paul's pulling him. No questions asked. You know that, right?"

Leah had.

* * *

She still did.

But she had assumed that the incident at Mike's, with more than fifteen dead, goodness knew how many injured and don't even get her started with the property damage— that should have been considered "hot enough."

"Tell me what I'm overreacting and should stop worrying," Leah begged Jacob one late night in mid-June. It wasn't begging, she would forever swear, because she never _begged_. It was just a question that might have been laced with a little too much emotion. It wasn't her fault; Jacob would understand that. After all, it was one in the morning; she was exhausted beyond belief.

"I don't think it works that way..." Jacob replied, fighting back a yawn. Despite his protests, Leah still felt terrible for interrupting his slumber. She had considered just dropping the call, but it would have been vain. Jacob would have just called her back.

"You're no help."

"Aisha said he was fine, right?" Jacob said, shifting his weight on, what Leah could assume, was his bed. He didn't give Leah a chance to answer. "Then he's fine."

"Can't you like— I don't know, tell with your sense or some other shit?"

Jacob chuckled softly. "It doesn't necessarily work that way." He paused. "Well, I mean, it _does_. But I don't have that kind of a bond with him."

Leah cleared her throat, wondering for a brief moment if he had that kind of bond with her. Not that she was planning on asking him. This conversation was awkward enough. "I see."

"This isn't his first UC assignment."

"I know. It's just that... this isn't some run-of-the-mill assignment. It involves the others, and it wasn't like we ended on the best foot—"

"That wasn't your fault."

"It still doesn't make it better," Leah argued. "I have no idea what's going on in his head, and he still won't talk to me..."

"Hey, I'll get him to talk to you when he gets back," Jacob promised.

Leah snorted, actually picturing her partner doing such a thing. It most likely wouldn't end well. "And how would do you accomplish that?"

"I can be a very _persuasive_ man, Detective Uley."

Leah snorted. The man was most likely smirking and winking on the other side of the goddamn phone. She soon carried on, without much thought. "Clearwater."

"Huh?"

Leah blinked. _Oh_. Her maiden name; the one she had relinquished when she had tied the knot with Sam _Uley_. Her subconscious must have been spoken out from anticipation of upcoming divorce. "Clearwater," she repeated. "Detective Clearwater."

"Detective Clearwater," Jacob tried. "Nice ring to it."

It sounded bizarre to Leah, honestly. She hadn't used her maiden name in years, never as a detective, but she supposed she could take Jacob's word for it. "Thank you."

"Now, go to sleep," Jacob commanded though it didn't have much of an effect behind his sleepy voice. "I know that's something you don't _believe_ in, but we do have a long day tomorrow, starting with that visit to LaPush. I'm picking you up at seven-sharp. Got it?"

Leah rolled her eyes. "Got it. Make sure you bring some fresh coffee."

"Will do."

* * *

It had been Leah's idea to visit the LaPush Hotel.

She hadn't and still didn't, have a real reason to do so. She didn't know what she would discover—if anything. The decision had been based on a feeling; a feeling that she, Jacob and Embry had been missing something, a missing link, in a homicide case that seemingly had no end. Crimes scenes, unless flawlessly staged, did not lie.

"Pick up anything?"

Leah asked both Jacob and Embry as the trio searched the room for evidence. They had been doing so for the past half an hour, and nothing had come up. Leah hoped with the guys' heightened scenes or whatnot, they could trace something she couldn't.

Embry stopped in his tracks in front of the master bedroom closet and deeply breathed in the air. He then exhaled loudly and shook his head. "Nothing but ammonia, stale air, weed, and sex from down the hall."

"Jacob?"

"Same," her partner said, checking under the bedroom and standing up. "They sure sanitized the hell outta this place. Gotta get this room ready for guests."

"I'm sure they'll jack up the prices," Embry said. "There's gonna be a list of crazy people wanting to stay in the scene of a major crime."

"Sick fucks," Jacob mumbled under his breath.

"Morbidly curious fucks," Leah corrected; she shared the other cops' sentiment. People had the right to make their own decisions, but she couldn't do it. Especially not in this room where she could still see Jessica's body right on that floor. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Sure do," Embry declared, not one bit ashamed even when Jacob gave him an amused look.

"I honestly don't know. Wouldn't be surprised," Jacob said, shrugging, and then, "Hey Em, hand me the photos, will ya?" Upon receipt, he thanked the other cop and started roaming around the room, dropping each photo in a specific area where it had been taken. "It's amazing isn't?" He said, removing a stray piece of tape from the file folder to hang up one of the photos on the wall directly across from the master bed. It was a picture of blood spatter.

Leah examined the photos on the floor. "What do you see?" she asked her partner.

"I don't know…" Jacob admitted.

"Hold up," Embry said, approaching the detectives, inquisitive. His gaze shifted between one of the photos on the bedroom and the carpeted floor. "She was cut up by a saw, right?"

"That's what Bella said," Leah said.

"Huh." Embry rubbed his chin, and then asked, "Then how was it done so neatly?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow.

"She was lying in a pool of blood," Leah pointed out.

"Yeah, but…"

"So, Mr. Aspiring Detective," Jacob said, patting his protégé on the shoulder. "You got a theory in that mind of yours, right?"

Embry looked at the photos again and replied, confident. "She wasn't cut up here. It wouldn't have made sense." He pointed at the bedroom and then the floor right below it. "Check out those pics. There's no blood spatter on the bed—"

"There were some on the walls," Leah pointed out, still picturing the streaks of red on the wallpaper.

"Yeah, but... shouldn't there be some around the bed?" Embry reasoned, shaking his head. "Just because she was found right next to it, doesn't mean everything was done here."

"He may be right," Jacob told his partner, and then, "But why move her?"

Leah swallowed. That was an excellent question. Her attention remained on the wall. "Then how did the blood get on the walls? Unless you're telling me that it belonged to someone else..." she trailed off, looking for an answer. Both men looked at each other and shrugged, causing Leah to groan. Another victim was honestly the last thing the "Voldemort" taskforce needed. "You're fucking with me."

"It's possible," Jacob reasoned. "There could've been a second person..."

"Oh, there definitely was," Embry confirmed, nodding. "I can't believe we missed that."

Leah hoped Embry and Jacob were wrong.

* * *

Embry, that asshole, might be onto something.

Another goddamn victim.

Fuck her life.

Fuck her job.

The only thing that seemed to have been going right work-wise was Emmett McCarthy. Rosalie had seen the light and it would only a matter of time before the Cullen member got hand-delivered to the ATF—barring anything happening.

Benjamin owed her.

"You sure he'll pay us back?" Jacob had asked upon hearing the news.

He better.

* * *

"Where else could she have been cut up at…?" Jacob muttered to himself as he reviewed the Dahlia's case files. The detectives had returned from their eventful trip to LaPush, having more questions than answers. They were both sitting at their respective desks, waiting for Embry to return from his lunch so that they could follow up on their new lead. "You just can't move a body around a crowded hotel and not get noticed."

Leah had to agree, but then again, it could happen. She sighed and shook her head. A second victim. A possible second victim— she was catching a migraine just thinking about the possibilities. "What?" she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you going to tell me that someone personally flew Jessica's body parts or whatever to the twenty-ninth floor without anyone noticing?"

She was being sarcastic.

Jacob, much to her chagrin, took her seriously.

"I mean," Leah said, leaning in and dropping her voice. "Vampires can't fly, right?"

Jacob rubbed his chin and leaned back in his seat. "I sure hope not..."

"How about the bathroom?" Leah offered because Embry's observances had made sense. She couldn't believe she hadn't made the connection earlier.

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "The bathroom?"

"Yeah, the bathroom," Leah said. "That's the best place to mutilate a body. You have everything you need: a tub, a toilet, a sink, water, and no carpet. Very easy to clean—" she stopped when Jacob picked up the desk phone and dialed a number. "Who you calling?"

"Forensics," Jacob said before speaking into the phone. "Good afternoon, this is Detective Jacob Black from Violent Crimes. I was wondering if you can do something for us. It's about the Dahlia case..."

* * *

They told Paul about their new findings. He didn't seem too surprised by the update; Leah supposed that nothing had fazed him anymore. All he said as he rubbed his forehead, was, "Let me know when you get something."

* * *

Sam's call came to an absolute surprise.

"Sam…" Leah breathed, bringing a hand to her mouth.

She hated the way her heart fluttered at the sound of Sam's voice. She should have been over his, over time. _He doesn't deserve this_ , common sensed screamed inside of her head, but she couldn't bear the thought of hanging up on Sam.

Leah and her partners were minutes away from picking Embry up from Paul's station; the trip planned to visit Demetri Karlov's sealed-off apartment during the early Wednesday hours, but at this moment, nothing else mattered except for Sam.

Jacob, sitting in the driver's seat, glanced at Leah from the corner of his eyes, watching Leah through a steady yet unreadable gaze as she engaged in small talk. _How are you? How it is? When will you come home? You've better not get yourself shot..._

Leah caught his eye and gave him a small, perhaps sad, smile as listened intently to Sam's understandably vague account of this time away.

* * *

She couldn't get him out of her head.

She knew the endgame. They were getting divorced this year. Next year— it didn't matter. It was going to happen, which was perhaps the most constant plan in her life. But now, with her husband being away goodness-knows-when... a part of her, a small, minuscule, nagging part told her that maybe she should think over something things. It had been the same voice that prevented Leah from picking up any signs of her husband's infidelity prior to the winter of 2017). Maybe she—

 _What the fuck was she thinking?_

There was no "maybe." Only definite, and if everything worked out, she would be a single woman sometime in the upcoming year. But— _fuck_ , she hated these conflicted feelings.

"I still love him. I just... I should... Maybe things will be different?" Leah stopped, disgusted with herself. "Oh, what the hell," and _then_ , "Sam's smart; maybe he'll realize his..."

Jacob made a disappointed noise. An angry grunt, more than anything. "Leah, _listen_. You can still love the man, but it doesn't mean anything's gonna change. Even if he comes back from UC as a supposedly changed man." He pulled up at a red right and asked, serious, "Do you still want that divorce?"

Of course, she did. It was the smart thing to do, but then again, perhaps Sam was right. Maybe they shouldn't rush it or some shit. Wait until the new year. But _maybe_ , she should just file the papers while he was away so that she could have a clear mind, and—

Leah hadn't been this indecisive in years. "I mean, Emily's having his baby, but—"

"It's a yes or no question, Leah."

Leah hated the tone in his voice; it was the same one that he used during interrogations. She glared at him and said, tersely, " _Yes_."

"There it is," Jacob said firmly as he drove off the moment the light turned again. "Don't call him back. You can speak to him later."

Leah narrowed her eyes. Jacob had no right to tell her what to do; he wasn't her father, and she certainly wasn't a child. "Fuck you, Jacob."

Jacob stole a look of his partner, still staring at her phone, cursed under his breath, and quietly demanded, stopping once again at the red right. "Leah, give me the phone."

Leah recoiled. "No."

"Give me the damn phone before you do something stupid."

 _Leah, don't be so stupid. I can't just leave Emily. She's having my child. That would be irresponsible of me. Just pay for the fucking child support, Sam. You don't have to... Leah, I have to. That's your cousin. And you're my husband. What am I supposed to do, accept everything? Leah, don't be stupid... Stupid. Stupid._

Leah could only see red. " _Don't call me stupid_!"

"I didn't call you—"

"Don't fucking talk to me."

* * *

Leah didn't mean it. It was just an outburst; there had been a lot of conflicting emotions happening during that car ride, and then he had said something about "stupid." And she couldn't help but flashback to that fight with her husband months ago, calling her stupid—

She thought Jacob would have caught onto that, but apparently, he hadn't. He took her seriously, only talking to her about things relating to their cases. So formal; so fucking impersonal.

She hated this "silent treatment."

She wanted him to look her way, make some snide comments about the Voldemort taskforce and vampires. She could tell him the truth, even apologize for her overreaction, but every time she gathered enough courage to say something, perhaps even an apology, he wasn't there.

It had been a few days, and it was frustrating as Hell.

* * *

"Trouble in paradise?"

Leah looked up from her Thursday newspaper and glared at the cop. She didn't have to ask what he was referring to. She knew that Embry must have sensed something. All after, he had been there during that treacherous ride up from downtown, even though she had only noticed his presence when they arrived at the station— which seemed to happen more times than she would have liked. Embry, allegedly, found the whole thing amusing with that damned smug smirk of his, but Leah only felt terrible. She didn't want Embry to think she completely disregarded him every time they were in a car.

But Leah didn't feel bad enough to give Embry a satisfying answer. "Not now," she practically barked, not wanting to have such a conversation during her self-appointed break.

She glanced to her side, eyes resting on her partner. He was chatting with Paul, showing something on his phone; they both seemed jovial. She sighed, shook her head, and turned the page to finish reading about yet another political scandal. Wonderful.

Embry shot his hands up in defense. "Hey, I'm simply the concerned third wheel here," he said, serious. "No need to be snappy."

Leah rolled her eyes. "I'm fine."

Embry snorted. "Oh, come on, do you know how many times I've gotten that same bullshit response from my mom? You gotta do better than that."

"I'm fine," Leah insisted, obviously lying through her teeth. It would be just her luck; the best partnership she had in, well, since ever, and she already put in jeopardy because of her goddamn problems. And it hadn't been a year.

"Fine. You're fine."

Leah nodded curtly. "I am."

"Okay."

" _Okay_."

* * *

"Yo, Black, Uley and Call, I got something for you regarding that slaughterhouse case. I know you guys are technically not assigned to it, but I heard through the grapevine that you're interested in the minor-female victim."

Leah looked up from her notes and acknowledged with a nod the middle-aged Hispanic man, standing a few feet away from her, dressed as if he was about to head to the club. (It was his undercover-look, he had told Paul). His name was Detective Edgar Martinez, a temp-transplant from a Westside gang unit. He was one of Sam's longtime buddies; he probably knew about everything. But, at least, he wasn't an asshole about it like of Sam's other friends at the station, currently standing on the other side of the open office area, talking about bullshit about the upcoming NFL season.

"I am," Leah confirmed.

"Good." Martinez held up the sheet for the cops to see—a copy of a driver's license and a mug shot from a few years back. Matched the victim's profile exactly. Bella would be thrilled about this finding. "The shapeshifter found in the slaughterhouse in mid-transformation," he explained. "Name was Marquis Jones. Garfield Park native. Age twenty-nine."

Jacob received the report and skimmed through it. "Occupation?"

"Officially, a truck driver," Martinez said. "Unofficially, the POC for one of Victoria's trading buddies. You've read of the Blue Outfit, yeah?"

"You're messing with me," Jacob said.

Embry cursed under his breath.

Leah truly hated times like these, the moments when she seemed to be the only person without a plethora of information. It wasn't entirely her fault, Jacob kept on telling her, and no one would judge her, but still. "A street gang?"

"Based outta St. Louis. Primarily involved in the illegal arms business. ATF's been after their asses for years, but you know how it is. When you got a good defense lawyer, good things happen to you," Martinez explained, shrugged, and then, "But okay. So, there's the thing: I checked with my contact back in the gang unit, and he said that there wasn't much Blue Outfit action going on here, not even on the West Side, but their products are on the streets."

"They must've established a trading agreement with the local gangs," Jacob said. "So that they can sell in these parts without actually being here."

"Or just transport over territory lines without butting heads," Embry said, and then, "Hey did he have any connections with the Night Fangs?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Night Fangs?"

"Vampires aren't the only ones in species-specific gangs," Jacob told Leah without looking at her. "Some are made up of shifters, and the occasional C.O.M."

 _Children of the Moon_ , Leah cataloged in her mind. Werewolves with minimal self-control. Monsters.

"I'll ask around," Martinez said.

* * *

"You know what's really funny about this, Leah?" Embry whispered, leaning in. He quickly glanced at Jacob whose focus remained on the sports section of the Chicago Tribune. "Collin Littlesea, you know, the head of the Fangs, is Jacob's cousin. Distant cousin, but still related."

Leah nearly choked on her gum. "Excuse me?"

Jacob closed the paper aggressively and said, annoyed, "Shut up, Embry."

Embry sat up and shrugged. "What? It's true."

Leah stared at her partner, having so many questions. All, at this moment, she would ask Embry at a much later time. She swallowed, trying to piece everything together until her thoughts were interrupted by the chime of her phone, notifying that she had a new text. She checked it out, taken aback that it had come directly from _Bella_ , requesting her and the gang to visit the Office of the Medical Examiner at their earliest convenience.

"We're stopping by the slaughterhouse," Jacob declared moments later. "Embry and I. Tell Bella I'll catch her later."

Leah nodded.

* * *

"You came here by yourself again?"

Leah unbuttoned her rain jacket and shrugged it off. She folded it neatly in half and draped it along the back of the only chair free of files and other supplies. "Jacob's chasing a lead with Embry," she replied, watching the other woman's every move.

Bella was restless, roaming around her lab, picking up and dropping off tools and files, all in an aimless fashion. She was the only other person in the room with Eric being on call for an apparent suicide in the Northside. The medical examiner was downright exhausted, like Leah; done with everything—her work. Her life. This world and its inability to calm the fuck down. She might have only been a couple of years younger than Leah, but Bella seemed to have aged significantly over these past few months. It was getting to her, and Leah couldn't blame her.

"I'll let him know that you've asked for him."

Bella stopped and sharply glanced up from the random report in her hands. She tossed the page aside, behind her, and said, " _Don't_."

"Don't?" Leah's eyebrows drew together; she hadn't recognized that voice. "May I ask why?"

Bella gave the detective an exasperated, frustrated look and shoved her hands into her lab coat pockets. "Don't give me that, Leah," she said with a bite. "I know Jacob tells you _everything_."

 _Not anymore_ , Leah thought. She eyed the medical examiner, finding her behavior fascinating. Oh, she figured, she must have taken Jacob's rejection personally. "He's not mad at you or anything," she said to her, giving up all desire to play dumb. "Surprised, but not mad."

Bella wasn't convinced. She sucked her teeth, shook her head, and mumbled something under her breath that the detective couldn't catch. And then, "He's avoiding me. This lab."

"We have a lot on our plates, as you know," Leah explained, wishing she didn't have to endure this conversation. She was only here for work; whatever happened between Bella and Jacob was _their_ business. "He can't be here every day. We can't be together all the time."

Bella glanced at her side, fighting the temptation to roll her eyes. "Could've fooled me." She took a deep breath, perhaps to calm down, rolled her shoulders, and rubbed her hands. "Shall we proceed, then."

"Please."

* * *

"Personally, I find her annoying."

Leah snorted, actually surprised by the younger cop's admission. Embry seemed to like everyone (like Seth), and Bella found him amusing. "That's rich coming from you."

Embry playfully rolled his eyes. "Funny," and then, "Jacob used to have this massive crush on her, you know? Oh, what am I saying? Of course, you know; everyone knows." He shrugged. "Thought she was cute. She kept brushing her off— not her type, I guess. Which is cool, but then, now, all of a sudden, she wants something from him?" He shook his head. "That just doesn't sound right."

"Maybe she's seen the light?" Leah offered. "Stranger things have happened."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad Jacob's not pursuing that. I'm tired of being a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. Every time his love life goes to shit. Quil can have that."

"How supportive," Leah replied deadpanned.

"I'm very supported," Embry defended. " _Thank you_."

"I'm sure you are," Leah said sincerely.

* * *

"Martinez, we meet again."

The Westside detective smirked at Leah before bringing up a chair from under the desk behind him. He sat down, took out his notepad, occasionally flipping through the pages. "Here to deliver the good news from last night," he announced, nodding, and then, "So, according to my people, this Marquis Jones was affiliated with the Fangs. Once more, Collin's boys found out about Victoria's shipment in the stockyards, but they weren't Victoria's. They actually belonged to Tanya Denali."

"And by extension, the Cullen's," Jacob added.

"She stole it from them?" Embry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, she did," Martinez confirmed. "But she knew the Fangs were on good terms with the coven. They wouldn't have taken the shipment if they've known it belonged to the Denali's. Victoria figured that she didn't need the stolen goods because it only consisted of iron bullets and imitation UV's... which Collin also didn't know."

Leah nodded. Collin probably wanted to get his hand on pure silver bullets and authentic UV's. "And she still let them take it? This sounds like an inside job."

"You may be onto something, Uley," Martinez said. "The first three victims, found in the open room. All Victoria's people. They were there when the Fangs came in and got attacked. Victoria and her crew found out about it like an hour later, came to the yards, saw the dealers and released the C.O.M on them. Those who managed to fight them off got a bullet to the head."

"But why keep them in the walls?" Embry wondered.

"Because she knew we would discover them," Leah said, "Just like the Dahlia's..."

Jacob brought a hand to his forehead and groaned, "Oh, boy..."

"She wasn't anticipating the Fangs to be there," Martinez carried on. "She wanted the Cullen's and the Denali's to come and get the shipment back for themselves. She knew that they knew about the missing cargo, and I'm sure Tanya wanted it back."

Leah was starting to understand what had happened that night. "She was trying to trap them."

"Yes," Martinez said. "But the Fangs got in the way. She must've had them put in the walls to send a send to the Olympic—"

"That she wasn't fucking around," Jacob finished.

"No, she's not..." Martinez said. "Mike's Lounge can attest to that."

"You still think that was a solo job?" Jacob asked.

"If she was indeed involved, I'm sure she had to receive some green light from the Volturi," Martinez said, shrugging. "They both hate the Olympic, but the Volturi doesn't like to get their hands dirty, at least not in public. I'm guessing that they wanted to retaliate for happened to Demetri, but only indirectly."

Leah nodded. "So, who are we arresting?"

"Uh, everyone?" Embry offered.

"No, can do," Martinez said. "The ATF and Paul want to hold off on that."

"And why is that?" Jacob asked.

"They have a plan and need certain people _not_ in police custody to execute it."


	22. Chapter 22

**Twenty-Two**

* * *

"What you need, my friend, to get you back on track is a detox."

"Aisha, I refuse to do that juice-cleanser-diet with you again."

"I'm not talking about _that_ , thank you. Though you have to admit, it worked."

"It tasted like shit."

"It wasn't designed to cater to your taste buddies, _Leah_. Anyway, what I am referring to is a relationship-drama detox."

"Not again..."

"I should have never connected your call for him; that was my fault. The moment you heard his voice again, all of this progress went out the window. Now, you're thinking about not getting a divorce—"

"First of all, I didn't say _that_."

"Yeah, well, you were pretty much insinuating it. Remember, Leah, you're not the only seasoned detective around here. I can read between the lines... Have you considered going on vacation?"

"Have you forgotten we're on Team Voldemort?"

"I can't believe they named the task force, Voldemort. _And so_? Life goes on. From the way things are adding up, this task force isn't going to get disbanded anytime soon. Look, I'm not talking about going away for a week. How about a weekend? We can finally go to New York and roam around Times Square like you've always wanted."

"I've been to New York before."

"Yeah, but not with _me_."

Leah looked up at her friend and gave her a genuine smile. "Nicely played, Aisha, nicely played."

"So, how about it?" Aisha asked. "No Sam. No Emily. Definitely no Operation Voldemort. Just for two days. It's only a two-hour flight, and the prices aren't that bad. You need a goddamn break. I won't take no for an answer."

"Fine."

"Three weeks from now," Aisha said. "Third weekend in July. We're going to leave right after work and return mid-Sunday. And you're gonna leave your work phone at your _home_."

"What if something comes up?"

"If it's an emergency, Jacob will contact you on your personal," Aisha said. "But I'll make sure to explain to him what exactly constitutes as an _emergency_."

* * *

"Emily called."

Leah snorted as she reached for the mashed potatoes. She considered asking about her cousin's well-being, but then she realized she shouldn't give a damn.

She ignored the curious look on Seth's face.

"She asked for you."

Of course, she had. She had been asking for her for weeks. Most likely to discuss the welfare of her baby daddy. The audacity of that girl. "I don't care," Leah declared.

Seth raised both eyebrows and silently continued to eat. He was going to remain quiet for the rest of the conversation. _Smart guy_ , Leah thought.

"I don't get that girl," Sue stopped to take a bite of her salad. "You'd think by now she's realized that you don't want to have anything to do with her. Maybe she's simply grasping at straws..." She shrugged. "I don't know."

Leah's mind went back to a conversation she had with Jacob a couple of weeks back concerning Emily. She had been relentless with her attempts to "talk" to Leah again, and Jacob, who was starting to become more annoyed than Leah, had suggested getting a restraining order. The idea had sounded wonderful, but she couldn't do it. She didn't think it was that serious.

 _"It's practically stalking," Jacob had said. "You know that's a crime, right?"_

 _Leah had rolled her eyes. "Don't insult my intelligence."_

 _"I'm just saying. Don't let the growing belly fool you. A pregnant stalker is still a stalker."_

Leah would only consider it if Emily had gotten out of line. Or rather, crossed the line.

* * *

"If I burn everything that belongs to Sam, will that help my nerves? My situation? My _sanity_?"

"Surely, you'll feel better at that moment. Destroying things can be therapeutic," Jenks said, folding his hands on his office desk. "But it won't help you in the long run. He can sue you for property damages. Trust me, I've overseen enough divorce cases to know that's the truth."

Leah scoffed. "Since when were you a matrimony lawyer?"

"Back in the day. When I was young, thirty pounds lighter and not dumb enough to get involved in criminal law."

"Well, I appreciate your legal advice. I'll keep that in mind."

"It's not worth it," Jenks told Leah. "Sometimes, it's just easier for both parties to just walk away. You don't need to be an inspiration for a Jerry Springer episode. You have enough on your plate. And Leah?"

"Yeah?"

"Embry had stopped by sometime last week, asking about getting a subpoena, all normal things," Jenks said, "But he did mention, perhaps in a slip-up, that there's a little rift between you and Jacob."

Leah rolled her eyes. "That guy..."

"I don't care who started it or whatever," Jenks said. "Make up, somehow, _please_. For my sanity."

Leah couldn't believe she was talking relationship—personal and professional— advice from an assistant district attorney when they were supposed to be discussing Emmett and Jessica's autopsy. But even she would have to admit that she was feeling better. "Anything for you, counselor," she said, deadpanned. "Anything for you."

"Thank you," Jenks said, and then, "Okay, so back to the real reason why you're here. I talked to my contact in the ATF, and according to her, they're extremely grateful for your assistance. They'll keep me posted about any updates, but..." He folded his hands and leaned in. "You didn't hear this from me, but some shit is about to go down.

"I've heard."

"Details?"

"I don't have much, but apparently, we're not arresting the main suspects right now… for whatever reason."

Jenks leaned back and nodded. "Yeah, just as I suspected. And the ATF _did_ promise to credit CPD for helping with Emmett."

Leah smiled. She was glad to hear it, and Paul would have a field day. She would tell him later to lighten his mood. "What it's looking like for him?"

"If he cooperates, he'll probably get charged for some bullshit possession. Looking at one to two years, max in Alcatraz. The place is kinda harsh, but given the man's _condition_ , there's nowhere else to put him with endangering the other inmates. We don't need a prison-bloodbath."

"I understand," and then, "Is he cooperating?"

Jenks sighed. "Not really. Despite Miss Hale's intervention."

Just as she suspected. It was fine, though; _someone_ was in custody. "So, how about Jessica?"

Jenks snapped his fingers. "Right." He dug into his drawer, pulled out a file, and handed it to Leah. "I know you're not exactly a fan of one Miss Lauren Mallory, and think she is foolish for not going under witness protection, but she's done some good work for us."

Leah raised an eyebrow and opened the file. Tons of court documents. "How so?"

"Her disappearance and subsequent reappearance have scared off some people. Enough to convince our lovely Justice Sorio to reconsider a previous court order."

"He's dropping the injunction?"

"He's suspended the temporary restraining order until the upcoming permanent injunction hearing two weeks from now," the prosecutor explained. "It wasn't a complete slam-dunk, but we can work with his. I've already notified the Office of the Medical Examiner, and they are making preparations. We don't need a certified copy of the autopsy, just something to submit into evidence."

"But doesn't it have to be authenticated?" Leah wondered. "An unofficial autopsy is going to work?"

"We'll worry about that when the time arrives," Jenks said with a dismissive wave. "I'm working on getting the case transferred to another judge. Because of the conflict of interest and the fact that Sorio may or may not be under federal investigation."

"Jenks, this is pretty much the biggest case of your career," Leah reminded him. It wasn't like Jenks to just relinquish a major case, especially not to the feds. He, like pretty much everyone else in this Cook Country justice system, had a love-hate relationship with the federal government. "Do you really want the feds to take over?

The expression on the prosecutor's face told Leah that he didn't, but felt like he had no other choice. Jenks just sighed, removed his glasses, and put them back on. "Do you know Carolina Barba?"

Leah had heard of her. She was the US attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, a federal prosecutor. Known for quite literally having no fucks to give... much to the chagrin of the bureaucracy and criminals.

"You may be seeing more of her," Jenks said. "I know we mere state employees want to do everything ourselves, but in this case, we can't. Not with that Deal in place."

"All I want to know is if we have a chance to bring those assholes down."

"We do," Jenks promised. "If we play our cards right. I'd continue with your investigation if I were you; the Voldemort Taskforce is doing a wonderful job."

"Thank you."

"We may need to officially change that task force name before we go to trial."

"I agree."

* * *

Leah didn't do this often, but she figured, hey why not? She didn't have to work in the morning. No one would judge her for her slight hangovers or completely-obvious sunglasses while she was inside the police station—

For the record, she wasn't _drunk_. She didn't get drunk. Or at least, not since college or occasionally during the academy while she was partying with other cadets. That was years ago, and she had improved significantly. There were a few hiccups, of course. The latest one being last year when Sam and his mess had compelled her to down an excessive amount of rum. After experiencing the worse hangover in history, Leah had vowed herself (and her toilet) not to go through that again.

She was a bit buzzed, perhaps tipsy— she could never figure out which came first. She had three beers. She would be fine with three beers. _Three beers_ would allow her to, she supposed somewhat, think clearly, and be mindful of her surroundings. It was near eleven at night. She was sitting at a local bar that wasn't a dive, not too crowded, not too rowdy. The bartender was keeping an eye on her even after Leah had promised she wouldn't have another beer.

The detective couldn't remember why she had decided to come to the bar in the first place. She hadn't thought that hearing from Sam, from Emily, from everyone, would set her off. But she supposed that it had.

Divorce.

The upcoming baby that wasn't hers…

And then there was Jacob.

Leah finished off the last of her third beer and slapped down a ten on the bar before hopping off her stool. She pulled out her phone- only ten percent of battery left, shit—and quickly ordered an Uber. She froze when the prompt asked for her destination.

She could go home. She _should_ go home. Or rather, her mother's. Or even as a last resort, Aisha's. But instead, Leah typed in a West Ridge address. Where Jacob resided.

Leah wanted to apologize for her behavior last week. It was the least she could do. She couldn't bear the thought of messing up whatever-they-have because of such a trivial thing. She wanted to start the following week on a good note. It was Friday night; they wouldn't see each other over the weekend unless there was an emergency. She wanted, no, needed, to get this done and over with, and perhaps go to bed with an empty mind.

* * *

As soon as Leah knocked on Jacob's door, she regretted her plan. But at this point, she knew there wasn't much she could do but face the music. Her Uber had driven away minutes before, and her phone didn't have any juice.

It was a quarter past midnight. Goodness, she felt like complete shit doing this to her partner at this time. There wasn't an emergency that warranted this visit. She should have called in, preferably the following morning. Texted him. Hell, even email him.

Leah ended up ringing the doorbell because there was no point in hiding. She stood up tall when she heard her partner on the other side of the door, opening the door without even asking who was there. He must have known it was her. Leah was talking herself into just walking away when the door opened, revealing a very confused and slightly disorientated Jacob Black.

"Leah...?"

Leah blinked a couple of times. Her stance faltered a bit, from what, she didn't want to understand. In front of her was Jacob, just wearing a simple white undershirt and sweats. It was odd seeing him so dressed down. "Hello," she quietly said.

Jacob blinked a couple of times and rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes. "What are you doing here... at this time?"

Leah froze. She had an entire speech prepared, but as fully expected, her mind couldn't find it. It was supposed to be an apology. She finally looked up at her partner and shrugged. At this entire situation, at the fact that Jacob was standing in front of her, with an arm hanging off the top of his door (a feat accomplished because of his height), dressed in only a white, worn t-shirt and basketball shorts. It was bizarre seeing him so dressed down. It was a good look on him.

Leah finally got her act together said in a leveled voice, "I'm sorry."

Jacob's face contorted in confusion, and then in understanding, "Did you seriously come all the way here for that?"

Leah wished the carpeted hallway floor would just swallow her up. This was why she didn't do impulsive. Impulsive led to incidents like this. "I'm better at face to face conversations."

"Oh," Jacob said, stretching his arm out as he yawned. "Well, yeah, don't even worry about it. You didn't even have to apologize—"

"I should, and I did. So, I'm sorry. Again," Leah stressed, wishing Jacob would just let her be. Goodness, she wanted another beer. Or wine. She wasn't picky. "I know you were only trying to help, but of course, I—"

Jacob released an exasperated sigh. "Leah, for heaven's sake, it's fine."

"Well, okay," Leah quietly replied, and this was where the true awkwardness settled in. Because she didn't have anywhere else to say. She spent twenty dollars (plus tip) just to apologize and nothing else. She needed a bed right now "I guess I'm gonna go..."

Jacob eyed his partner from head to toe, "How did you get here?"

Leah narrowed her eyes, taken aback by the question. "Why?"

"How many drinks you had?"

"I didn't—" Leah brought a hand to her forehead and groaned. That damn migraine was coming back. "I just came from a bar. Had a few drinks. Didn't drive here, thank you. I'm not that fucking stupid. Took an Uber."

Jacob sighed in relief, and then, "Stay until the morning," he offered, motioning his partner to come inside his apartment. He fought back another yawn. "It's getting late."

It was an enticing offer; Leah would like to lay down on something besides the back side of a cab, but she shook her head. "I'll be fine."

" _Leah_."

She huffed, crossing her arms. Was she pouting? Perhaps, but at this moment, she couldn't care less. She was fine, she was convinced, a little tired and a little woozy, but she could last for another hour. Just have the cab drop her off at her apartment— she couldn't go to her mother's. Sue would only ask too many questions.

Leah considered just ignoring her partner and walking away. She could wait for the new cab downstairs in the lobby. But Jacob, as she would forever remember, was a persistent asshole, and she knew she wouldn't hear the end of it for a while.

"Fine."

* * *

She passed out almost the moment she hit the mattress, only vaguely remembering Jacob mentioning about him sleeping in the living because his sister's artwork filled up the guest rooms.

* * *

The sound of shuffling and footsteps woke Leah up.

She reached over to retrieve her gun from the stand, as a reflex. She paused when she realized just who was moving around feet away from her. "Jacob...?"

"Hey."

Leah rubbed her eyes and sat up, leaning on her elbows. She saw Jacob, dressed as if he was going to the gym, removing a shoe box from the top shelf of his closet. "Where are you going?"

"Be back in a couple of hours," Jacob whispered. He opened the box, retrieved something Leah couldn't decipher in the dark, and returned the box to its rightful place.

Leah blinked. "Jacob—"

Jacob quickly pocketed the object, searching around the room as if to check that he had everything. "Going out on a run."

Leah glanced at the digital clock, sitting on the bedside stand. "Three-ten in the morning?"

"No one's up," Jacob whispered, shrugging, and then, "Hey, I'll be back in a couple. Go back to sleep."

* * *

Leah woke at seven in the morning.

She stayed in that same spot, on that unnaturally comfortable bed, for the next few minutes. She wanted nothing more but to remain in the unusually comfortable bed for the rest of the day, just sleeping off the headache and enjoying the warm sun rays coming through the half-rolled up shades.

But then she remembered that she wasn't in her bed. Or at her apartment or at her mother's. She quickly sat up and looked around. She was at Jacob's— ah, the memories were finally flashing through her mind. The trip to the bar. The feelings of frustration and anger. The Uber ride. The conversation in the hallway outside of her partner's apartment... Goodness, she was a goddamn wreck.

She locked her phone and studied her reflection through the darkened screen. Well, she didn't look too bad.

And then, she turned on her phone. Two missed calls from her mother. Several texts from Aisha. One from Seth and one from fucking Emily—none of them seemed too alarming. She could reach out to them, except Emily, later. When her head wasn't faintly pounding, and her limbs decided to function fully.

"Okay," Leah whispered to herself. She needed to get up. Tossing her phone to the side, she literally crawled out of bed. She stood up straight, stretching out her arms, letting out the last her yawns (before inconspicuously sniffing under her arms. _Just in case_ — she was fine), and walked out the room.

She stopped when she caught sight of Jacob, sprawled across his living room couch, literally dead to the world, hugging a random couch pillow. If she were any other person, she would have taken a photo (especially with that drool at the edge of his mouth) and send it to Embry. But she was better than that, she told herself. After all, Jacob had done a favor for her...

Oh right.

Leah looked around with hopes of figuring out how to thank the man. Money wouldn't do it; even if she managed to sneak it into his wallet, he would do the same once they were at work. _Food_ , she thought. That man and _his food_. She would make some breakfast, she decided. Breakfast made everyone happy and considered her poor excuse of a dinner (and lunch _and_ breakfast) from yesterday, it was much needed… for her stomach and her mind.

By no means was Leah was a four-star chef, but she truly enjoyed cooking. She _loved_ it, such a stress-reliever. But lately, she hadn't had the time to make anything elaborate. She couldn't remember the last time she went food shopping or even thought about making something besides pasta. She had eaten more in the past several months than she had in the past couple of years—thank goodness, Jacob being Jacob, refused to let her pay anything but tip half the time or else her funds would have truly suffered.

* * *

"You made me some breakfast?" Jacob said a half an hour later, between yawns, stretching out his arms. He gave Leah a lopsided grin before dropping his arms and deeply inhaling the scent of the food. "Damn, I should have you stay over more often."

Leah snorted and rolled her eyes as she poured some pancake batter into the sizzling pan. She was almost done; the entire packet of bacon was made. So were the scrambled eggs and her attempt at hash browns (she might have almost burned them) and the freshly-cut bowl of mangoes and pineapples. Once she was done with the pancakes, her job was done.

"Watch it, Black," she warned, pointing a spatula at her partner, ready to swat at him at any moment. "I'm still married."

"Don't I know it," Jacob replied with a wink, walking further into his small kitchen. "I'm glad to see you in better spirits," he said, stopping to lean over the stove. He inhaled again and glanced at his partner. "You didn't have to do this."

"I have to pay you back for your hospitality somehow, and something tells me you won't accept money."

"You know me all too well," Jacob laughed, and then, "How's your head?"

Leah sighed. It was still there, but she had managed to ignore it since getting out of her bed. And now, it was returning at full force. "Still pissing me off."

"Took the Advil?"

"What I need is some Valium."

"Damn, that bad?" Jacob headed to the fridge to pull out an unopened Gatorade. He poured some of the sports drink into a glass and handed it to his partner. It apparently did wonders for hangovers. "How many drinks did you have?"

"Three beers," Leah replied carefully, pouring some pancake batter into the sizzling pan. She didn't want her partner to think she was a drunk. She wasn't. It just had been one of those nights. "But I was also living off coffee, two Red Bull's, and a half of a bagel." She gave Jacob a pointed look, and then, "By the way, you have some twigs tangled in your hair."

"What?" He ran a hand through his short hair and seemed surprised as he pulled out some twigs. "I thought I washed them out..."

"Where did you go, anyway?"

"Huh?" Jacob asked, distracted as he pulled out another twig.

"Your three am run."

"Ah, right," Jacob said with a sheepish expression on his face. "Sag Valley."

"The Forest Preserve?" Leah asked in disbelief. Palos Sag-Valley Forest Preserve. That was located outside of Chicago; probably an hour or so ride from the city. Not a place you run to in the middle of the night. "You traveled all the way to Palos Park?"

"It's easier on four legs. Wasn't a far trip at all. Would've gotten their faster if Embry—" He picked up a handful of bacon, shoved it in his mouth and swallowed it down. He looked so happy. "Oh god," he moaned. "Bacon. _I love bacon_."

Leah eyed her partner, slightly puzzled. He was being so nonchalant about everything. It was amazing. It was as if he hadn't taken the time to realize just what he was talking about. Was it really the work of an entire pack of bacon? Leah would find that unbelievable. The meat was nothing special. Just another generic brand off the shelves in Jewel.

"You go on a run every morning?" Leah asked.

"Every few days," Jacob said, reaching out for some more bacon, but Leah slapped his hand away. He _literally_ pouted. "It depends on everyone's schedule. But always on a full moon."

"Never by yourself?"

"It's more enjoyable with the others," Jacob replied, staring at the food, all moony-eyed as if this was the first time he had seen breakfast food. "No, but seriously, can you do this for me every morning?"

"Shove it," Leah said, sticking a tongue out at Jacob, and then, "I want to apologize for last night. I don't know what came over me. I don't get drunk. At least, not often."

Jacob reached out and placed a hand on Leah's shoulder. "It was just one of those nights."

"Yeah." Leah sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Jacob said, squeezing his partner's shoulder. " _Seriously_."

* * *

"I think my problem is that I don't adjust well to change," Leah said minutes later, slicing off the corner of a pancake. They were both sitting at the small kitchen table located next to the kitchen doorway. "I've been used to being with someone, coming home to someone, _being married_ that the thought of starting over is holding me back."

Jacob washed down his food with orange juice. "When did you come to this realization?"

Leah shoved the piece of carb-filled goodness (so, she was supposed to be on a diet. _Supposed_ to), and said, "After my second beer."

"Hey, change can be a good thing."

"I know _that_. My mind knows that," Leah said, aggressively cutting off another piece. She reached out for the maple syrup and poured it until her mind told her to _slow the hell down_. "But I have to accept that, and it fucking sucks."

"No one said it was going to be easy," Jacob said, chuckling as Leah tried to push the syrup as far away from her as possible. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Leah. You'll get through this."

"Thanks," Leah said, smiling quite genuinely. It was nice to hear those words, and then, "Did you know Jenks used to practice in matrimony law?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow, let out a low chuckle and asked, "Why the hell did he leave?"

"He was sick and tired of dealing with bickering sides especially when children were involved," Leah said, feeling like was replacing Embry as the department gossiper. "Though I'm not sure switching to criminal made much of a difference."

"He's planning on retiring soon."

"Yeah, I know," Leah said, staring at her half-eaten pancakes. "It'll be like an end of an era."

"I don't think he's going to do it, though," Jacob said. "He's like Paul. Complains his head off but can't get enough of the work." He snorted. " _Hah_ , Jenks as a divorce lawyer..."

"I'm going to talk to one," Leah said, not believing she had finally made up her mind. Apparently, spending late nights at the bar and crashing at a partner's place made one question their priorities. "Jenks gave some referrals. Claims he can give me a friends-only discount."

Jacob seemed _relieved_. "When are you going to start... with everything?"

"Soon," Leah said, and she was going to stick to it this time. There was no point stalling the inevitable. "I figure that it won't matter whether Sam is here or not. The proceedings are going to take forever anyway, and I highly doubt Sam's going to be MIA well into next year. One would hope... With the way things are going..."

"Hey, try to be optimistic, will you?"

"Of course," Leah said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly (she seemed to be doing that a lot), and then abruptly, perhaps due to an entirely different train of thought; probably out of mere curiosity,

"How does it feel? To go on a run in the dead of night?"

"Free," Jacob breathed, relaxing in his chair. "Doesn't matter the temperature. There's nothing like running on all fours through the forest. Especially during the off-season when you know, there aren't going to be many campers."

Leah wasn't much of a nature-lover, but she supposed she could see the serenity of it. "This is the off-season?"

"Not really," Jacob admitted. "But we're shape-shifters, not werewolves, half-man, half-wolf— or whatever Hollywood depicts. No one would bat an eye, just thinking we're a pack of wolves."

"Which you are, technically."

Jacob gave Leah a warm smile; it reached his eyes for the first time in weeks. "Yeah, we are."


	23. Chapter 23

**Twenty-Three**

* * *

The second victim.

If it hadn't been for Embry and his constant, half-joking, half serious, declaration that he would dedicate an entire section of his future tell-all to this discovery, Leah would have completely forgotten about the second victim. In her (and Jacob's defense), they had multiple, seemingly impossible, murders to get to the bottom of. They honestly didn't have the brain cells to think about another one.

"They couldn't find anything else about the blood?" Jacob asked, staring at the Dahlia's crime scene photos, frowning. He held the picture of the bloodied wall up to the ceiling light as if it would provide him a revelation. It did not. "DNA? Trace it to anyone? Anything?"

"Nope," Leah said, regretful.

"If we can't find out who that second person is," Embry said, being completely unhelpful in Leah's opinion, "Then we can forget about solving the Dahlia murder."

It had been an oversight on everyone's part (Leah didn't want to blame CSI on everything; it wouldn't have been fair. Shit happened). The wallpaper littered with blood spatter hadn't been taken as evidence only photographed because apparently everyone not named Embry had assumed that the blood had belonged to Jessica.

One week had passed since the discovery, and they still didn't have a lead.

Until they did, and it had come from the last person the trio expected.

Perhaps they needed to give Officer Jared Cameron more credit.

* * *

"Jared, so nice to see you," Jacob greeted enthusiastically the Monday before Independence Day, the Fourth of July. Most of the task force, including Paul, was in a good mood knowing that in a few days, they would all be off for a holiday (barring _something_ happening, of course). He pointed at the mail cart. "Back on mailman duty this week?" Before Jared could retort, Jacob motioned at his partner who wasn't paying him any mind. "I'm sure you've met my partner, the Lovely Detective Leah Uley."

Jared playfully rolled his eyes as he dropped a package on the desk. Based on the sound it made, it had to contain something more substantial than paper. "But in any case," he extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Detective Uley. How did you get assigned to the ever-so-entertaining Voldemort Task Force? Do you not like your sanity?"

"We've met," Leah said, deadpanned.

"Oh, come on," Jared whined earning a lighthearted chuckle from Jacob. "Can't you keep up with the joke?" He glanced at Jacob. "Seriously, man, how do you work with her?"

Leah narrowed her eyes.

"She's the best," Jacob said, winking at his partner, and then clapped. "Okay, so what's in the envelope?"

"Security tapes," Jared replied, practically giddy. He picked up a pair of scissors off of Jacob's desk and put open the enveloped, revealing a VHS tape and a CD. "I was able to get the tapes burned onto the CD. Free of charge," he added with a dramatic wink. "All from LaPush. All from the night of the Dahlia's murder."

Jacob picked up the CD and held it up to his face like it was the Holy Grail. "How the hell did you get these?"

Leah waited for an answer.

"It's actually a funny story," Jared began. "See, I met the head of security's son at Comic Con last year. Nice guy. Serious gamer— I'm talking _serious_. Long story short: we got to talking, played some games at another video game tournament, I kicked his behind and instead of getting the money that he would never have as the prize, I told him that he could return a favor at a later time. It wasn't until I talked to Paul when I realized that the Dahlia was killed at LaPush." He clapped. "So, I called my gamer-friend a couple of days back, and he said: sure, I can help you out. It's better than paying you seven hundred dollars, and _voila_!"

Jared just gaped at him, and Leah shook her head. _Only Jared_ , she thought to himself. Only Jared. "So, your gaming obsession finally paid off."

"Sure did," Jared declared, so proud of himself. "Now, before you ask, yes, I would be _honored_ to watch these tapes with you, but I made a bet with the receptionist about handing out all of the mail in under thirty minutes, so I got to go before I lose twenty bucks."

"How long you're on mailman duty?" Leah asked.

"Until the fall," Jared grumbled. "Which is just not fair. Paul's being unfair."

"That's because you ignored his demand not to transfer any calls from the Bureau to him during lunch."

"It's the FBI, _Jacob_ ," Jared argued. "You don't say no to the FBI."

"You could have just taken a message," Leah pointed out.

"I'm not his damn secretary."

"No, now, you're just the mailman," Leah said, smirking.

Jacob laughed.

"Oh, yes, there's the humor!" Jared grinned, slapping Leah's shoulder, but brought his hand back when the detective raised an eyebrow at him. "She's a keeper man."

"Shut up, and get outta here," Jacob demanded, and then, glancing at Leah, embarrassed. "Ignore him."

Leah thought nothing of it.

" _Cameron_!"

Jared groaned and threw his hands up. "Oh, come on, I'm going to lose my bet."

"Looks like the boss wants to see you," Jacob told Jared, laughing at the cop's pained expression.

Leah joined in as she texted Embry to come to her desk as soon as possible.

"I don't even know why I'm friends with you," Jared bit back, but without much heat, before rushing towards Paul's office.

"Is that fool on his way?" Jacob asked, speaking of Embry. "I gave him a specific ten-minute window to flirt with that new guard."

"She's cute," Leah remarked. "I mean, she may break Embry in half, but something tells me that he'd like that." She laughed at Jacob's disgusted expression, and then, "Jared Cameron, he's a rookie, right?"

"Rookie and a half," Jacob said. "Came on board in the fall of '16."

Leah looked in the direction of Paul's office. He was still speaking to the younger man, but he didn't seem to be reprimanding him or anything. "And he got sent here so soon?"

Jacob shrugged. "Some said it was a punishment to instill more discipline in him. You know how he is with his pranks... Paul has a reputation of scaring the shit outta rookies. But as you can see, Jared ain't one of those guys."

"He likes it here."

"Yeah, he does."

"And he's okay with the whole supernatural-thing?"

Jacob gave Leah a puzzled look. "Yeah... why wouldn't he be?"

"It's just that this is a heavy place to come to so early in his career," Leah explained. "It's like getting transferred to Violent Crimes off the bat."

"He can handle it," Jacob said.

* * *

The video started to roll on Leah's computer screen as soon as Embry returned. The security cameras captured the scenes on the 29th floor, which up until Jared did his magic, were supposed "lost"— Leah made a mental note to speak to the manager about this new development. At face value, it wasn't much. It was about five minutes long, showing the guests and staff walking up and down the hallway—"

"Stop," Jacob ordered. When Leah hit the pause button, he pointed at the screen. "There's Demetri and Jessica."

Leah and Embry leaned closer and gasped. Yes, Jacob was right. There they were, both holding a suitcase, all over each other, occasionally stopping to devour the other with their mouths. They had caught the attention of a few hotel staff walking past with a baggage cart—Leah made a note to find the names of those particular employees for questioning. In the far right-hand corner, Leah caught sight of another woman. Young, probably in her twenties or early thirties, wearing a red bandage dress with matching stilettos. White, straight black hair. Eye color was indiscernible. She following the amorous couple's every move with Demetri glancing back at her ever so often.

"He knows her," Embry concluded. "He's not telling her to fuck off."

Leah and Jacob nodded as the tape rolled on. In the far left-hand corner, they could see Demetri and Jessica entering a room— the murder room—with the other woman following close by. She stopped before entering looking down the hall as if she was looking for someone.

"Keep an eye on that one," Leah said.

Nothing much happened after all. Just three minutes of people walking up and down the hall until the last twenty seconds, when two men. Both white, dressed in black suits with brown briefcases, methodically walking towards Jessica's room.

"Stop," Leah ordered, although the video was playing on her computer and therefore, she had the control. Leah's head shifted to the side as she studied the video more closely. She picked up a couple of photos lying around at her desk—victims of the slaughterhouse murders—and compared them to the figures on the screen. She gasped— those two men, she recognized them. She had seen them before in a gruesome matter, two of the thirteen bodies found inside the slaughterhouse walls. John Doe One and Five.

"Well, I'll be damned…" Jacob breathed out when Leah told him and Embry the revelation. "What the fuck were they doing there?"

"And just like that, this case got more complicated," Embry whined. " _Great_."

Leah immediately created a screenshot of the paused tape and printed it. Embry rushed to retrieve the copies. With the copies soon in her hands, she quickly picked up the desk phone and dialed Benjamin's number—a move that she almost regretted especially since Benjamin was undercover and technically a mob associate, and not an agent, but she would explain herself when the time came along. "I am going to send you a couple of photos right now," she said. "Tell me if you recognize the two men."

Jacob watched his partner expectantly as she waited for the agent's response.

"Mikhail and Dave," Benjamin soon replied, in a muffled voice. Leah inferred that he was standing along the shores of Lake Michigan. "Arms dealers from out west. Cali, I believe."

Leah snapped her fingers, motioning her partner to hand her a new notepad and a pen. Upon receipt, she whispered thanks. Jacob gave a thumb up in reply. "Got last names?" she asked. He didn't. "Did they work for the Cullen's?"

"They worked for themselves," Benjamin corrected. "But they had ties to everyone. Both human and otherwise. Heard they used to be active in the Middle East—" He let out a humorless chuckle. "You know how it goes."

"Do they have ties to the Defense Department?" Leah asked, earning an alarmed look from both Jacob and Embry. She waved at the both of them dismissively. "You know, as contractors?"

"Do you _really_ want to go down that road?"

Leah bit her lip. "We'll save that for later," she decided, earning a sigh of relief from her partners-in-crime. "What else do you have for me?"

"Nothing as of now," Benjamin said. "I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks." Leah hung up the phone and told the two men staring at her. "Dave and Mikhail. They were there with Jessica and an unknown woman. Both dead, found in the slaughterhouse. The unknown woman—"

"She must be the second victim," Embry said. "Do you think it was Demetri's doing?"

"I honestly don't know…" Jacob said, and then, "But before we can do anything, we need to get the ID on that woman. That's our goal—right before Independence Day. We'll deal with the rest after."

* * *

"Got a name," Embry announced the moment he got in the car. It was the Tuesday before the holiday. They were in front of the office of a private investigator Embry had known for some time. Going to a P.I. for an identity check wasn't particularly protocol, but the systems back in the police department couldn't find a match. "Gianna Castellano of Cicero, Illinois. Age 30, a recent MBA graduate of Notre Dame. And get this: she was reported missing back in February by her boyfriend."

Leah and Jacob shared a look.

"Oh, the boyfriend..."

"Yeah, I know. Seems suspect," Embry said, "But I honestly don't think he has anything to do with it. He had an impeccable background according to the P.I. Not that we can ask the boyfriend, himself. He died in a car accident in March."

"Well, there goes that," Jacob mumbled.

Leah frowned as she received a copy of Gianna's information from Embry. She glanced down at it. A young woman, with black hair, tied up into a messy bun with piercing green hairs and olive skin. Based on appearance and her suit, she might have come from means. "She's pretty," she remarked.

"Former beauty queen," Embry said. "Worked as a receptionist at Napolitano's in Cicero for four months."

"As in Napolitano's Consulting?" Leah asked. "Isn't that a front for...?"

"The Volturi," Jacob finished, turning on the engine.

"Where are we going now?" Leah asked.

"To our favorite _talent_ scout."

* * *

"I do not appreciate the Chicago Police Department's constant visitation at my private residence without a—"

"Would you rather do this at your place of business?" Leah asked, pushing past Alistair with Jacob and Embry following in toe, giving the vampire smug looks. "The vice squad would have a field day."

"What I do is not illegal," Alistair insisted, lifting his chin. "It is a talent—"

"Agency, yeah, we know," Jacob said, popping his gum. He looked around the vampire's front room and nodded approvingly. "I see you've hired an interior decorator. Nice."

"I wanted to liven up the place," Alistair said before ordering his butler, another vampire, to fetch him a glass of blood. "So, I am sure you are not here to discuss my new color schemes. What do you want?"

Leah pulled out a picture of Gianna and held it to Alistair's face. "Know her?"

Embry followed up with, "Did she work for you?"

Alistair observed the photo and gave the detectives an exasperated look. "Despite what you want to believe, I do not employ every single pretty girl in Chicagoland."

"So, you didn't know her?"

"I didn't say _that_. You didn't ask _that_ ," Alistair said. He took a dramatic breath, and, "Gina—No, Gianna. Last name, I am not sure. She was not important to ask around about it," and then added, "She wasn't one of my girls. I am not a foolish man."

Jacob crossed his arms. "Explain."

"She worked for Napolitano's. That agency is owned by associates of the Volturi," Alistair said. "I wouldn't be caught _alive_ in that such a place, employing an associate of an associate of the Volturi."

"I thought you held no loyalties?" Leah asked.

"I don't," Alistair said. "But like I've said: I am not a foolish man."

"Was she human?" Embry asked.

"Yes."

"The Volturi employs _humans_?" Jacob asked.

"They do it all the time," Alistair said. "Apparently, to make their customers more comfortable. But human employees seldom last long. Unless, of course, they have something that the Volturi wants."

Oh, Leah was starting to understand where Alistair was coming from. She took one step closer. "Did Gianna have what they wanted?"

Alistair shrugged nonchalantly. "All I know is that Demetri flirted with her all the time."

"Demetri flirted with everyone," Jacob pointed out.

"Only the desperate ones," Alistair replied, smirking.

* * *

"So, Gianna was another Jessica, doing anything to get the goddamn bite," Leah concluded as soon as they all back into the car. "Seriously, what is the appeal of turning into a vampire besides living forever as long as you don't get hit with a UV?"

She wondered if Lauren also wanted to be turned.

"That's not something you should ask a couple of shape-shifters. We're kinda biased," Embry said.

"They think it's sexy, I guess. Alluring, dangerous, like something out of a terrible vampire-romance novel," Jacob said. "And of course, you don't age."

"But you turn _so_ pale," Embry complained. "I guess it's fine if you were already pale, but if you had some melanin in you while human... It's like you have to dump an entire bottle of lotion on you, so you don't look like you've dumped powder _all over you_ , but then you still _do_."

Jacob let out a hearty laugh.

"Benjamin doesn't look as bad," Leah argued. "And I've seen Laurent... it's not _that_ bad. The paleness is because of the lack of blood flow, right?"

"Right," Jacob confirmed. "See, they ingest blood but got no heart to pump it. I guess it's safe to assume that Gianna's the second victim?"

Embry nodded enthusiastically.

"So, why kill her?" Leah asked, crossing her arms. "Why kill her _there_? Why was she there in the first place?"

"Based on the tapes, it looked like she and Jessica knew each other," Embry said. "Which is pretty weird since they work for rival families."

"But we've already established that Jessica was playing on both sides," Jacob reminded Embry. "They probably met through Demetri."

"Really?"

"Dude, they were probably sister wives," Embry said, and then defended himself when Jacob and Leah gave him the _look_. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Don't you know that Demetri had a community dick? If it weren't for him being a leech, he'd be on Maury with a string of baby mama's. All demanded child support. He'd be a recurring guest."

"Really, Embry?" Jacob gave the younger a dirty look through the rear-view mirror. " _Really_?"

"What?" Embry exclaimed, arms flailing. "It's true!"

Leah placed two fingers on the bridge of her nose. She shook her head. "I can't," she mumbled, not knowing whether to laugh at Embry or gag at the thought of Demetri being with those poor women. "I just can't."

* * *

"How's Bella?"

"Oh, she's fine. A little out of it," Eric said the following afternoon, rummaging through the never-ending piles of paper inside the medical examiner's lab. The state had pushed an initiative to make the workspace "green," starting with significantly reducing the usage of paper. Obviously, that initiative hadn't gone into effect at the Office of the Medical Examiner. Or in the Chicago Police Department, in that matter. "But then again," he said, stopping to rub his chin. "Who isn't? Do you know how many times I've questioned my decision to enter the medical industry because of this year?" He sighed, and then, "Hey, why did you ask?"

Leah waved dismissively. Eric didn't have to know about the last conversation the detective had with the senior medical examiner. "Just asking."

Thankfully, Eric didn't pry into the subject, but he pulled out Jessica's autopsy report. After receiving it, Leah skimmed through the packet. "The patient was a 24-year-old Caucasian female with no significant past medical history…" she read out loud. The official cause of death was cardiac arrest. Toxicology test results, inconclusive. Mutilation of the body occurred post-mortem. "So, nothing's changed?"

"That's the official report," Eric said, turning around pick up another stapled packet. He handed to Leah. "This is the under-the-table one."

Leah raised an eyebrow before flipping through the pages. "What's changed?"

"The biology of vampires," Eric said. "I know a guy who specializes in supernatural forensics. Kinda a creep, not officially recognized by the American Medical Association, but he knows his stuff. The feds contact him from time to time, so he has to be legit."

"Encouraging," Leah remarked, stopping to read over the analysis of the bite.

"We were able to collect a DNA sample from Jessica's bite, and according to this guy, the origin of the bite was of human and bat origin. Like a hybrid."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "A vampire?"

"Correct. So, you know how you and Jacob mentioned that Demetri was the primary suspect? Well, thanks to his body also being in our custody, we were able to get this DNA. Now, get this: did you know that the venom is unique to each vampire? We tested out the venom from all the other deceased vampires, and they were all different," Eric explained. "So, in other words, Demetri Karlov was the killer."

Leah should have been relieved at the confirmation, but the fact that nothing could be done to Demetri only made her more upset. "And he's dead."

Eric glanced behind him were Demetri laid, on the operating table with a white sheet covered up to his head. He sighed. "Yeah…"

"I got a question for you," Leah started, closing the packet and handing it to the medical examiner. "Did you happen to pick up any other traces of DNA from Demetri? Particularly from a woman? White, about five and a half feet?"

Eric shook his head. "He was killed after LaPush. Unless he didn't bathe, it would've washed away." He continued as Leah let out a frustrated noise. "However, I'm not a psychologist by any means, but that guy seemed like a creep. A sexual predator— they like trophies. Examples of their conquests. He must have something lying around."

Leah nodded. "We'll check on that."

"Anything on who could have chopped her up?"

Leah shook her head. "This wasn't a one-person job," she concluded. "Plus, we have good reason to believe there was a second victim. Another young woman."

Embry swallowed. "From that same night?"

"From that same _room_ ," Leah clarified. "We found more blood spatter that couldn't have been from Jessica. We strongly believe that Jessica was killed via bite next to her bed but then mutilated in the bathroom." She shook her head. "The trajectory wouldn't have made sense."

"Holy shit."

"Sentiments exactly."

"Well, we got nothing on Demetri," Eric said. "But we can check if there was anything foreign on Jessica. Do you have a body?"

Leah shook her head.

"Can you get her DNA somehow?"

"We're working on it."

"Good." Eric nodded. He then snapped his fingers, recalling something. He returned to the crowded table and pulled out another file, Demetri's autopsy, and handed it to Leah. "Found something interesting about him. Demetri didn't die from the bullet in his temple. He had suffered the weirdest allergic reaction I had ever seen… like he was burned alive while his body was rejecting the substance."

"The UV."

"Yeah, but here's the kicker," Eric said. "We were able to extract some of the liquefied light from Demetri's brain matter and after further inspection, discovered that the light found in him was different than the light found in the others. Demetri's had a purple tint to it while the other's found in Mike's victim's the Denali's and the slaughterhouse had a more bluish tint."

"So, two batches of UV's," Leah concluded. "Do you mind if I get a copy of Jessica's, the Denali's and Demetri's autopsies?"

"No problem."

* * *

"This doesn't mean the case is solved," Jacob told Leah about two hours later. "Unfortunately."

"I know," Leah shrugged and sighed. "Anyway, based on this report, Jenks wouldn't have been able to charge the man. It just said she died from a heart attack. All of the juicy details are in a report we can't release. And then there is the new discovery of the bullets."

"And then there is the new discovery of the bullets…."

* * *

"You've all done some damn good work," Paul said a few days later as he once again read over the trio's reports. "So, there was a second victim, and she was connected to the Volturi."

"Seems that way," Jacob said. "We haven't figured out a motive yet."

"And she didn't work for our favorite pimp?"

"Alistair insisted that she wasn't one of his girls," Leah said. "Judging from his words, he didn't think she was worth his time."

" _Damn_ ," Paul said. "And the boyfriend who reported her missing died from an accident?"

Embry shrugged. "According to the P.I., there was nothing nefarious about the car accident. He just lost control on an icy road, and the car slammed into a tree."

"Contacted the family?"

"We will eventually," Jacob said. "We plan on talking to them, asking if they know anything. But we have to be sure that the second victim was Gianna. I mean, based on the evidence, it most likely was, but..."

"What you need to do is find those other fuckers in the video," Jacob said. "Hopefully they're still alive."

"We'll also ask the hotel staff," Leah said, glancing at Embry and Jacob. "See if they remember her and with your permission, of course, get access to her phone records."

"Have a number?"

"We'll find it somehow," Jacob promised.

"Just when I thought this case wouldn't be more complicated..." Paul trailed off and stood up. "Well, like I said. Keep up the good work. Hopefully, we can get a confirmation that it was Gianna so that we can avoid getting chewed out about not taking in a piece of bloody wallpaper as evidence."

"You weren't initially assigned to that case," Embry pointed out.

"It doesn't matter," Paul said, and then, after clapping. "So, before I forget. I have some news about one of our cases. I told everyone else earlier, but you weren't here... The Bureau's now primarily handling the Denali case," Paul informed the team. "It's not the best, but at least, we have somewhat of a lesser workload. And as you all know, the Deal doesn't pertain to the feds."

"They're really going to go after the Volturi?" Leah asked.

"They can try," Paul responded with a shrug. He downed half of his coffee and continued, "They have a good chance of making something happen. They have concrete proof that the Volturi ordered the hit."

"Who did it?" Jacob asked. "Demetri?"

Paul shook his head. "Believe it or not, that would have made our lives so much easier." He let out a dramatic sighed and leaned back in his seat. "You remember Felix and Santiago, right?"

Felix and Santiago, two of the top hit men in the country (and Western Europe) whose loyalty exclusively belonged to the Volturi. Leah remembered them alright; they had been actively involved in the St. Patrick's incident, only to not be charged with anything because of... Leah didn't know. She recalled Sam telling her about a deal made or something.

"I can't say I'm too surprised," Jacob said. "They seemed the type to have no qualms about killing babies."

"Ain't that the truth," Paul said, and then, "Oh, and one last thing. Guess who decided to return to the Windy City?"

Leah sat up in her seat. "Who?"

"Mike-motherfucking-Newton," Paul declared. "We're bringing him in the morning, and if he knows what's good for him, he'll talk."

* * *

It seemed that Mike's time away had done him some good, common-sense wise. The day after he had returned to Chicago, a Friday, he had gotten himself a defense lawyer. It had been a timely move because that following Monday (a little later than Paul would've liked), he had pushed into the back of a police car and hauled over to Paul's station for booking.

"It's the smartest move he's made all year," Paul said. "He must've finally learned from his mobster-buddies."

"You're not concerned?" Leah asked.

Paul shook his head. "Nah, Mike's a fool, but he's the least of our problems. Relatively-speaking. I just need Jenks to come up with a wonderful plea deal and have Mike sing like a canary."

"You're going to let him go."

"This isn't my decision," Paul maintained. "I have some power, I admit, but procedure is procedure. I have to pick and choose which rule to break... and that fool got himself a goddamn terrific lawyer."

"I see."

"We should be fine. Just as long as he doesn't do anything stupid."

Leah wished she could be as optimistic as Paul. "And what about Lauren?"

Leah feared that someone was going to find out about Lauren's trip to the police station and her talking. They were going to have to silence her before she had the opportunity to testify... she had a sinking feeling that this was going to happen. If only Lauren Mallory could see the light (or disappear again). And then there was Mike—the blame was going to be put on him. After all, he had saved Lauren's life that fateful night.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"She's in the area," Leah reminded the captain. "Mike's _now_ in the area..."

Leah knew Paul was concerned about Lauren Mallory. It was written all over his face, but she also knew that if Paul could've one something about it about, it would've been done already. Lauren wasn't going to accept a witness protection order, and there wasn't enough evidence to keep her under custody.

All Leah could do was hope that fate was on their side.


	24. Chapter 24

**Twenty-Four**

* * *

"So, Collin Littlesea is your cousin, and he's the leader of a shape-shifter gang based on St. Louis..." Leah said before sipping up nearly a half of her large iced-coffee through the straw; the drink still didn't do a thing for relieving the heat. "How did that happen?"

It was one of the hottest days in July, the weatherman had said earlier this morning. And instead of baking under the sun along the shores of Lake Michigan, Leah was at work, with a half-operating air conditioning system, waiting for the Voldemort Task Force weekly briefing to begin.

She had a few minutes to spare for some small talk.

Jacob, sitting next to her in the very back of the large conference room, stiffened in his seat. "It's a long, fucked-up story," he whispered. "Remind me to tell you when I'm drunk outta my mind."

Leah gave him a look, feigning disapproval. "I thought you were going cold turkey with me," she joked, nudging him with an elbow and then she realized Jacob wasn't. "Duly noted."

"The goddamn feds wanted me to spy on him," Jacob grumbled quietly. "Accused me of being involved in the Fangs' business when I told them they could go fuck themselves."

Leah's eyes widened. That was something she would have expected to come from _Paul_. Not Jacob. "I hope you didn't actually _say_ that."

"It was heavily implied," Jacob claimed, straightening up in his seat and crossing his arms tightly. "We're cousins, alright? But we were never close. I mean, we were when we were kids, but obviously, we've chosen different paths."

Jacob could have carried on, but then Paul walked into the conference room with an expression on his face that commanded the attention of everyone. Leah gave her partner one last sympathetic look before turning her focus straight ahead, leaning against the back of the uncomfortable plastic chair.

* * *

Leah had finally reached out to a divorce lawyer.

Aisha and Jacob (and pretty much everyone else sans Sam) would be so proud.

"Why do you want to petition for a divorce?"

It should have been the easiest question to answer. Second to why she decided to become a cop in the first place. The reply was swimming around in Leah's head; it had been since last December, but now sitting in a chair, across from a divorce attorney referred to by Jenks during her lunch break, Leah couldn't think of the right answer. Or at least, a sophisticated one.

The lawyer, Patricia Melfi was patiently awaiting Leah's answer, hands folded on the desk, staring at her prospective client expectantly, but not really. She must have heard it all from all walks of life, and she must know what she was doing. Well, if she was charging five hundred dollars a session, she _better_ know what she was doing.

"My husband of almost eight years has been cheating on me with my cousin, who was like a sister to me, by the way, for the past three years," Leah responded. No matter how much she tried otherwise, she still sounded like she was a guest of the Jerry Springer. "And she's pregnant."

Melfi raised an eyebrow and made a quiet noise in her throat. "That'll do it."

"Yeah."

"Have you considered going to counseling?"

Leah snorted. Now, Melfi sounded like her mother. "There's no point."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because my cousin is having my husband's baby," Leah explained, thinking the answer should have been obvious. "You don't come back from that. I mean, I'm sure some people do, but I'm not. I won't. I refuse."

"Understandable," Melfi said, nodding, and then, "Do you have any children?"

"No," Leah replied bitterly, crossing her arms. She couldn't believe the audacity of Sam, getting Emily pregnant. Why couldn't he impregnate Leah? She had always wanted children, but no. _Not know, Leah_ , he had said. _It wouldn't be good for our careers. Leah, I don't think_ —

"Leah?"

Leah's eyes widened upon the realization that she had zoned out for a bit. She shook her head, embarrassed, "Sorry. As you were saying?"

"Is this divorce contested or uncontested?" Melfi asked again.

"Uncontested." Shit, Leah didn't know. "Sort of."

"It's either uncontested or contested," Melfi pointed out. "There's no in between."

"Contested," Leah decided eventually but soon realized that it wasn't the right word. They had discussed this, granted it had been months ago at a gory crime scene, but Sam had promised he would give her a divorce. The problem was, "He just wants to wait."

Melfi leaned back in her seat and asked, "Why?"

"I don't know," Leah confessed.

"Have you asked him?"

"I did, and as usual, he gave me nothing."

"Can you ask him again?"

"Not anytime soon," Leah said. She didn't want to talk about the undercover work, but what the hell? She had nothing else to say, but, "He's a cop, too, you see. We're not always available. Sometimes for a while."

Melfi nodded with understanding. "Ah, I see," she said, and then, quite uncharacteristically cautiously, "I assume your spouse is doing undercover work..." she trailed off, looking up at Leah, waiting for a silent confirmation. Leah just sighed, giving the attorney what she needed. "Don't worry about a thing," she assured. "Client-attorney privilege, remember?"

"Yes, I remember."

"I would wait," Melfi suggested. "Now, I know you want to get this divorce out of the way. Trust me, I get it. Personally, I don't know how I would've reacted if—"

"I pulled a gun on him."

Melfi stared at Leah, a little taken aback by the admission and swallowed before saying in a leveled voice, "I am going to make believe I did _not_ hear that."

Leah cleared her throat. Yes, she should have thought before she spoke. "Sorry."

"Not a problem. I've heard worse," Melfi said with a dismissive wave. She was completed unfazed about the slip, leading Leah to wonder _what_ would faze the attorney. "Question about that though: did you get arrested?"

"No."

"Reported?"

"No."

"Good," Melfi said simply, and then, "As I was saying, it's probably wise to wait. Nothing can really get done until your spouse returns. A divorce decree is an agreement, and you can't have issue one with only one person."

Leah frowned. She hated the fact that Melfi made so much sense. She wanted this entire thing to end, preferably before the summer ended, not wait until the winter like Sam had suggested. "So, what do you expect me to do?"

"Wait until he returns."

Leah let out a frustrated sigh. "By the time he returns," she argued. "That whore will have already given birth by then."

"I wouldn't advise calling your cousin that in any legal proceedings," Melfi said. "To be frank, Leah, your cousin is a non-factor. Yes, she was involved with your husband, and that is wrong, but under the court of law, the only two people in this case that truly matters are you and your spouse."

"So, in other words, I'm just going to have to wait."

"You're going to have to wait," Melfi confirmed. "And for the record, outside of the gun-situation and calling your cousin a whore, the way you've approached this situation is very wise," she commended. "I know you are upset, but the last thing you need right now is a criminal case because you've exploded on someone. Take this time away from your spouse to let out some steam. Relax. When your husband returns, we can proceed with the divorce. If that's what you want."

"I'll consider it," Leah said. "Thank you very much for your assistance." She rose from her seat. "How much do I owe you?"

"Two-fifty."

Leah raised an eyebrow."Not five?"

Melfi shook her head, trying to hide an amused smile. Perhaps she was tickled by the fact that someone was questioning such a generous donation. "You were referred to me by Jason Jenks," she explained. "He and I go way back. He helps me out, and I help him out," and then in a tone that left no room for argument. "Two-fifty will be the charge."

* * *

"I didn't ask for any favors," Leah grumbled as she walked out of the downtown office building. She cursed when she realized it was raining, and of course, she had forgotten her umbrella.

Jenks chuckled over the phone. "I thought you'd be thanking me. Think of it as a thank you gift for all you have done these past few months to make my life easier."

Leah figured she should accept it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

The rest of the week had been interesting. Perhaps the most interesting Leah had in years, in terms of information-gathering. The focus had been on Gianna Castellano also known as "Victim Number Two," and her relation with Jessica Stanley and her murder, and in a rare feat, almost all of the people the team had interviewed were cooperative. Gianna's grieving parents had been helpful, knowing far more about their daughter's personal life than expected. And Benjamin al Fadhil, as a token of the ATF's thanks for handing over Emmett, had proven to be a terrific asset. In

"It's been quite some time since we've discussed Gianna Castellano," Paul started that Friday morning, folding his hands top of the investigative reports on his desk. The reports had all of the findings from Leah, Jacob, and Embry, but he wanted to hear it from their mouths. "So, tell me what you got."

"Surprisingly, we believe that we may be onto something," Jacob said, looking at Leah, waiting for her to start. "We were able to gather a lot of good information."

"Gianna was involved with Demetri. She would have one anything for him, including luring people to his lair," Leah said. "As well as participating in threesomes... which also included Jessica and Caius."

"He's one of the Volturi's main guys," Embry added.

"She was the one who introduced Jessica to Demetri with promises that if she... satisfies him, she would receive the bite," Leah carried on. "Jessica was getting frustrated with Carlisle's refusal to change her—"

"Not because he didn't want to," Jacob added. "But because Esme wouldn't allow him to."

"A real romantic," Embry mumbled under his breath.

Paul leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. "How do the UV's play a role?"

"We don't really know," Embry admitted. "I mean, it's so confusing, but we're positive it was an arms deal gone wrong. Not only because people were killed, but also, the bullets found in the hotel room were of a lower grade, according to Dr. Yorkie's supernatural expert. It wouldn't have even done a damn thing to a newborn vampire."

"So, they were worthless?"

"Pretty much," Jacob said. "Which is why it's so confusing. Why would the Volturi want _that_? Why would Jessica risk her life by handing dud-bullets to a high-ranking member of a rival crime family? How did she obtain it—"

"Unless it was all a trap," Leah interjected.

"Set by whom?"

Leah took a moment to think. Like Jacob said, the Cullen's and the Volturi would never, ever, do business with each other. The deal had to have been a farce from the get-go. In the back of her mind, names, Esme and Edward, were on repeat... but she couldn't prove a thing. She didn't have an ounce of evidence.

"I don't have the..." Leah stopped to gather her words. "What if the Cullen's found out about Jessica's rendezvous with Demetri? That would have pissed them off, right? Not only was she messing around with someone besides Carlisle, but she was doing so with a mortal enemy."

"You think Carlisle set this up?"

Leah shook her head. She was a homicide detective, and if there was one thing she knew, women tended to be more creative when it came to setting up someone's demise. And they managed to do it alone or at least with a limited amount of people. Usually someone loyal to them. Someone like Edward.

"It makes sense..." Jacob reluctantly agreed. Leah knew he had more questions than answers. Admittedly, so did she. "And Gianna was probably the collateral."

"They didn't need a witness," Embry added.

"What about the dealers?"

"The video, at the very, very end showed two men walking towards the elevator lobby," Leah told the captain. "Without the suitcases. They were walking quite briskly like they wanted to flee, but not look so obvious."

"So, when did she die?"

"Based on Bella's findings, they were intimate right before shit hit the fan," Jacob said. "According to rumors from our C.I., Demetri was into some kinky shit. Knife-play, gun-play. Bondage— he frequented this hotel and the manager knew about it."

"The manager was paid off significantly for his silence and a promise that Demetri would always get the most secluded room."

"The room was reserved under Jessica's name."

"It always was reserved under the lay-for-the-night's name," Leah pointed out. "And it wasn't just women. Men, usually on the younger side, too. But they were mostly prostitutes, according to our C.I. I suppose it makes sense; the police don't have the best track record investigating crimes against sex workers."

"Are you implying that Demetri was a serial killer?"

Leah shrugged. "Would it be that far fetch?" she wondered, and then, "But like I said, this was all rumors. Hearsay. At this moment, we have two victims who were murdered at LaPush."

"How did Gianna die?"

"We don't have a body," Jacob said. "But based on what we have from the photos and the blood spatter, numerous lacerations to the jugular. With a knife or a blade."

"And how did Jessica get chopped up?" Paul asked. "By Demetri, too?"

"We don't know," Leah admitted. "We figured this all happened within an hour. Demetri could have left as soon as he was done. Took Gianna... for dinner, I suppose." She swallowed down a lump at her throat; she thought after all these years at the police department that she would have been desensitized, but apparently, not. "He left Jessica behind because the room was assigned under her name."

"And then someone came in and finished the job," Jacob said. "We don't have any tapes from that time frame. All coincidentally destroyed."

"Bring the head of security in."

"We plan to," Jacob said. "But only as a cooperating witness. He'll probably get something for obstruction, but he did provide us the earlier tapes without much of a fight. I say we got easy on him. Who we need to go after is the hotel manager who goes by the name of Andrew Sullivan."

"The later tapes wouldn't have been destroyed without his direction," Embry said. "He accepted brides, knowing what shit was going down. So, how about an arrest warrant? With the charges being tampering with evidence, obstruction, and bribery?"

"Can throw in promoting prostitution at property charge for good measure," Jacob added. "Or as a threat."

"I can get you one by this afternoon," Paul vowed. "Let's attract the least amount of media coverage as possible. It's a work day; he's most likely going to be at the hotel right now."

* * *

"You have the right to remain silent," Leah told Andrew Sullivan as she and Jacob led the manager out of the hotel. The Miranda rights should have been read inside Sullivan's office, but the commotion didn't permit it. He wasn't being very cooperative, had even thought it was an excellent idea to swing a fist at Embry. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney..."

"Go to Hell!" Andrew exclaimed, struggling to get out of Leah and Jacob's grasps.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "You're not helping your case, Sullivan. Just let the detective finish reading your rights and then, you can provide us a lovely monologue about how you're _innocent_."

"I didn't do anything."

"Well, besides the obstruction and the bribery charges," Embry said behind the trio, disregarding the curious crowd forming around them as they walked to the police car. "You did assault me."

"I was only defending—"

" _You have a right to an attorney_ ," Leah repeated harshly, glaring at Jacob and Embry, silently telling them to keep their goddamn mouths shut. "If you can't afford an attorney, one will be provided for you..."

In the distance, Leah could see a news van speeding towards the hotel. Of course, the media got wind of the arrest. It shouldn't have been surprising. Several moments might have passed since the Dahlia murder, but the LaPush Hotel was still on the press' radar.

* * *

"Mr. Sullivan, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. The ball is in your court."

Leah couldn't explain how much so adored saying those words. It was probably a cliché, something usually mentioned in a clichéd crime drama (just like the question: "Are you lying now, or were lying then?" some lawyers hoped to use during cross-examination. At least, according to Jenks). But it just felt good saying them. Particularly after she caught sight of a perp's expression. It was usually one of irritation, fear, or feigned nonchalance.

Andrew Sullivan—Caucasian male. Aged 49. Average height. Brownish-gray hair and brown eyes. A frequent customer at the tanner salon or proprietor of many spray tan bottles. Married to a homemaker with three children (and rumor has it: a mistress). Brought in on various charges relating to the Dahlia Incident, insisted on feigning nonchalance.

"You have nothing," Andrew claimed quite confidently.

That was what they _always_ said.

Leah sighed and directed her attention to the only other person in the room, Andrew Sullivan's lawyer, Marco Balthazar. A hot-shot defense lawyer with an office in one of the downtown high-rises overlooking the Chicago River. Interesting choice, in Leah's opinion, because even on his salary, Sullivan shouldn't be able to afford Balthazar's services. Yet another reason to look into Sullivan's finances.

Balthazar's expression remained blank.

Leah's attention returned to Sullivan. Fifteen minutes into the question had passed, and he still insisted on doing _this_ the hard way. She wished Jacob and Embry were here, only to watch this interrogation; they _loved_ interrogations. But they were both sent away by Paul on another assignment involving the Fang's; they should be back soon, Paul had promised.

"Do you know someone by the name of Demetri Karlov?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Leah said. She then presented a photo depicting Sullivan and Demetri shaking each other hands; they seemed to have been on friendly terms. "Who is the man in this photo, shaking Demetri's hand?"

Sullivan leaned over and glanced at the photo. "That's not me," he declared, leaning back, crossing his arms. He stole a glance at his lawyer who held the picture in his hand. _Oh_ , Leah decided, it had been Sullivan, after all.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "That's not _you_?"

"No."

"Then who is shaking Demetri's hand?" Leah asked, titled her head. "Do you have a twin or a doppelganger we don't know about?"

Balthazar looked at Leah and then back at his client. He sighed, and then, "Detective, can we have an aside?"

Leah nodded and motioned for a guard to come in, to make sure Sullivan behaved himself. "Sure."

* * *

"You are giving my client a hard time," Balthazar said when the interview door was closed behind them. There were people around, but no one was really paying attention to them. "He's not wanted for murder one, you know."

"Your client needs to work on his lying," Leah told Balthazar. "We can work with him, only if he decides to work with us."

"What are you talking? Charges-wise?"

"I can't make any promises right now," Leah said. "But how about a plea to a lesser charge? Our ADA—you've heard of Jason Jenks, yes?"

Balthazar stood up tall and squared his shoulders. "Of course."

"Well, we _all_ can come up with a suitable cooperative package for Sullivan," Leah reasoned. "If, and only if, he talks. To be honest with you, Balthazar, it's not looking good for him."

Balthazar snorted. "For his involvement in a murder that he was not privy to?"

"Try double murder," Leah corrected. "He's connected to numerous crimes, including but not limited to aiding the solicitation of prostitution. Plus, bribery charges that may or may not be connected to a federal investigation which includes illegal arms, blood feuds, kidnapping, money laundering, extortion... You've heard of RICO, right?"

The question affronted Balthazar. "I am a licensed lawyer, Detective."

"Good," Leah said curtly. "He works with us, we won't hand him over to the feds on a silver platter. That's the offer, in short."

Balthazar wanted to challenge Leah, but eventually his deflated. "I would like to have a conference with my client."

Leah tried not to smirk. "Take your time."

* * *

"Did you threaten to rip his junk off?" Martinez asked the moment Sullivan was whisked away fifteen minutes later. He had been standing on the other side of the one-sided mirror. "I can't believe he folded so quickly. I thought he had potential, you know."

"RICO charges can scare even the most hardened of criminals," Leah told the other detective as she closed the interview door behind her. She ignored the inquisitive (and for some reason, annoyed) looks from the other cops, most, for some reason, had an issue with her; they could mind their own business. "Look at him," she taunted, watching Sullivan flinch as another guarded perp in handcuffs glared at him as he walked past. "He wouldn't last a week in federal prison."

"Keep this up, and Paul won't let you return to Violent Crimes," Martinez said.

It was something Leah hadn't thought about. She had been so used to working in the Voldemort Unit. "It's not really his call," Leah said.

"Oh, he can make it happen," Martinez insisted, greeting Jacob and Embry with the rise of his cup. Both cops were heading their way. "Make sure you tell your partners the good news, will you?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Still spying on Mallory?"

"I'm not spying on her."

She might be little.

But in Leah's defense, it wasn't like she was _stalking_ the woman, taking pictures of her every move, going to her residence. She was only keeping an eye on Lauren, for her protection, through her social media accounts. On which Lauren was extremely active. She was more of an Instagram user, though she occasionally posted on the usual networks, Facebook, Twitter, and Snapchat. All accounts were public so she didn't have to necessarily ask anyone for a subpoena—not that Paul would really give a damn.

Leah wished Lauren had her profiles on private especially since she was a witness to a major crime, was brought back to Chicago through not-so-clean methods and had more or less ratted to the police weeks ago... but apparently, as far as Lauren was concerned, common sense was overrated.

At least, she seemed to have deleted all of her photos with Jessica, except for one taken in front of LaPush in January of 2017. It wasn't anything special, but it had tugged on Leah's heartstrings, knowing that a year later, Jessica would be murdered in that same hotel.

"Anything?" Jacob asked as he broke off a half of a bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwich before handing it to his partner.

Leah would be forever grateful for the donation; it was almost ten in the morning. Three hours since she had arrived at work (eight hours since she had returned from her much-needed trip to New York), and her stomach could only account for a small cup of mediocre coffee she had gulped down before entering the station.

"Nothing noteworthy. Last night she went to a YouTube-celebrity birthday party," she said, sifting through Lauren's Instagram posts— twenty-nine new ones since ten last night. "Looked entertaining."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "On a Tuesday night?"

"I guess so," Leah shrugged and closed out of the app. "Judging on her never-ending posts on everything she's done, I'm assuming she still hasn't gotten herself a lawyer."

"You don't need a lawyer to tell you to shut up after ratting to the police," Jacob pointed out. "Did she talk about anything relating to this investigation?"

"Thank goodness, no," Leah said. At least, for Lauren's sake. In a rare flash of intelligence, there was nothing mentioned about her rendezvous to Nebraska. She took a bite of the sandwich and asked, "Any news from Mike?"

"Got charged. Plead not guilty, as expected. The court date is set for August, but Jenks working on a plan to squeeze in a plea deal before trial starts," Jacob explained. "Mike's now out on bail."

"Until September," Leah confirmed, frowning. "Why so far away?"

"You know the courts are always backed up. That's why Jenks wants him to accept the plea."

Mike, even with his hot-shot lawyer, should have just accepted his fate and pled guilty. It might be a controversial stance to have, Leah knew that, especially with everything that was going on (and goodness knows, the Chicago Police Department didn't need another lawsuit), but the writing was on the wall. If it hadn't been for some under-the-table deals, Mike would be been in prison, and Leah knew Jenks was going to use that against him.

Leah shook his head. "He shouldn't have been released on bail," she declared. "Mike belongs in Cook County Jail."

"Leah, I know he's important to the investigation, but it's not like he's been charged with murder-one. We don't have the right. Like isn't that a violation of the Eighth Amendment?"

"Sorio could have done something," Leah argued. "He's done it before."

"Yet another reason why the feds are investigating him."

Right. The federal case. A case that under normal circumstances would have caught the attention of many, but was on the back burner because of everything else.

Leah shook her head. "I feel like—" Leah paused to take a deep breath. "I don't have a good feeling about this. Do you?"

Jacob hesitated to reply. Perhaps because he didn't want to admit that he was thinking the same thing. He had mentioned quite a few times about Lauren's lack of judgment for not accepting witness protection.

"I'm trying to stay optimistic," he finally said, staring out in the distance. His words carried emptiness as if he didn't believe a damn word he had said. Like he had just told them to save face. "You should, too."

Leah didn't think it would be possible as far as this investigation was concerned. But she supposed that taking Jacob's advice would be worth the try.

* * *

"What happened that night?"

Leah waited for an answer to Jacob's question, but in actuality, she did not expect much. Mike had gotten himself a damn good defense lawyer. No one would be talking until a deal was on the table, and no deal would be made until later that week when Jenks would come to pay a visit.

Mike didn't say a word. Legally speaking, smart man. He was only sitting up straight in his chair with his hands folded on the table. He was modestly dressed, unlike him, and void of much emotion, definitely unlike him. Beside him was his lawyer, Travis Shapiro, a man who had made it known that nothing was going to pass him.

Leah would let Jacob run this questioning session. He tended to get under the former lounge owner's skin, even on the best or worst of days.

"As we have mentioned minutes before, Detective," Shapiro replied in a sharp tone. There was just something so smug about the man that Leah wanted to punch off. Him and his stupidly-expensive suit and white gold cuff links. "When my client gets a satisfactory deal on the table, we will reconsider the plea, and only then, will your answers be answered."

"It's a simple question," Jacob retorted.

"And I have provided you with a simple answer," Shapiro said, looking straight into Jacob's eyes, completely deterred by the detective's glare.

* * *

"He's an asshole."

"He's always been an asshole," Leah reminded her partner as they both watched Mike Newton walk away with Shapiro. "That's nothing new."

"Do you know how much he charges per hour?"

"More than Mike should be able to afford, based on last year's tax returns."

Jacob scoffed. "And how the hell did you get your hands on those?"

"You're not the only person who knows people, Jacob," Leah said, smirking.

"Did you at least get a subpoena for it?"

Leah's smirk grew.

"You know what," Jacob said, seeing the light. "Forget I even asked."

"Smart man," Leah said, patting her partner's shoulder. "Smart man."


	25. Chapter 25

**Twenty-Five**

* * *

Leah loved reality TV.

Sure, it could be trashy. Mindless. Usually, void of any intellectual value (though that could be debated), and it more or less destroyed MTV and VH1- but there was something about it that brought a smile to Leah's face when she got home from a long day at work.

Mostly because she was convinced that her brain waves slowed down significantly when watching re-runs of Jersey Shore.

Her new guilty pleasure was _90 Day Fiancé_. She had discovered the show last year, thanks to Aisha who had insisted that it contained more drama than Housewives franchise. From the first episode, she was hooked.

And it was that show she was trying stream on her phone that was currently leaning against a pile of books. She was at work; she was supposed to be doing her reports, but Aisha had told her that last night's episode was _crazy,_ and she wanted to watch crazy seven o'clock in the morning—

Leah's attempts were disrupted by the sound of profane-laced shouts coming from the station's entrance. Annoyed yet curious, she turned around to see a group of arrestees: four men, two women, all young adults, though one man could be middle-aged. A mixed bag of races, all looking like the stereotypical street thugs.

(An attribute Leah used sparingly. In her experience; it was the rich, white-collar folks that gave her the most headaches. Them and their goddamn lawyers).

"Humans?" she asked her partners.

Jacob and Embry shared a look and shrugged.

"Only one," Embry confirmed. "The rest are shape-shifters, except for the last one in line... I don't know what she is, but she's not human."

"Or a leech," Jacob grumbled.

"I thought Paul said you couldn't call them that anymore," Leah taunted.

The perps were being far from cooperative, declaring about how everyone in this damn office was going to regret breathing and about how no one had anything on anything— the usual shit.

The task force officers practically dragged the perps from the doorway while Detective Edgar Martinez was standing in the back of the line, directing the new arrivals into the interrogation room, sporting the most shit-eating grin Leah had ever seen. _He must've caught a big one_ , Leah concluded, putting away her phone; her reality show had to be placed on the back burner for now.

"Got lucky?" Leah asked when Martinez reached her.

"You have no idea, Uley," Martinez declared, quite triumphantly. "Got a call from my guys about an hour ago. While on patrol in Garfield Park, they found those knuckleheads going around bragging about the slaughterhouse killings." He gave a nonchalant shrug. "So naturally, we had them arrested. All Fang members."

Embry saluted Martinez with his half-eaten bagel. "Good man."

Jacob's eyebrows drew together. "Seriously? I thought the Fangs only recruited _certain_ people?"

"The others are associates, I believe," Martinez said.

"You're sure they all weren't messing with you?" Leah asked; it wouldn't have been the first time. She would never understand those fools who claimed to have done something heinously criminal, to crumble under interrogation when their cover was blown.

All for attention, she supposed.

"For their sake, they better not be," Martinez said, and then, after a wink, "Wanna see the action?"

"We're technically not on that case," Leah reminded the other detective.

"With all due respects, Uley, everyone in this godforsaken task force is that case. And the Dahlia's. The Denalis. That bastard, Demetri's and Mike's Lounge," Martinez maintained. "Think of this as a personal invitation to what will surely be a hot mess of an interview."

"Thanks, man," Jacob said.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the interrogation began. Martinez had managed to rope Jacob into the questioning. He needed someone who was a shape-shifter most of the perps could "connect to." Leah and Embry, however, thought that Jacob was there to ensure the recent arrestees that he wasn't fucking around—either way, both detective and cop watched the questioning from the other side of the one-way mirror.

"Why the _fuck_ did you, and your boys kill them?" Jacob asked ever so elegantly, looking more disappointed at the Fangs' stupidity than angry. "And a _vampire_. You know you can't do that shit."

"It didn't happen like that," the young man insisted quite frantically. He called himself Javier, definitely one of the younger, more naive members of the crew.

"You just told the cops that it did," Martinez contended.

"No, man," Javier said, shaking his head, sitting up on his chair. He had a _story_ to tell. "Listen, it wasn't even like that. We were supposed to get the shipment and bounce. Those leeches weren't supposed to be there..."

"The slaughterhouse belonged to Victoria," Jacob pointed out.

 _Everyone_ knew that.

"No, it didn't."

* * *

" _No, it didn't_?" Embry questioned, giving Leah a look of pure confusion.

Leah returned the gesture. "Riley said it was Victoria's. He patrolled there all the time. Jessica had been there with Jessica..." she shook her head. "This can't be."

"Unless the Fangs thought something otherwise," Embry said. "I guess that sort of made sense. Why would Victoria send them to her spot and _not_ be there?"

That was the same question Jacob and Martinez asked Javier, but the young man insisted that the slaughterhouse wasn't Victoria's territory. He didn't know who it belonged to, remembered someone mentioning that it was just free space. The detectives ended up switching to another related-topic, one that held close to Leah's heart.

Jacob opened the folder and pulled out a photo of Bree, lying motionless on the slaughterhouse floor. "What happened to her?"

Javier's gaze was fixated at the photo. He was horrified like he was revisiting something from the past. He seemed to remember everything. He eventually looked away, took a deep breath, and said, "Look, I didn't make the command to do _that_. She was just there, fucking scared outta her mind. I told her to get the hell outta there, but he wouldn't let her go."

Jacob and Martinez exchanged looks, and then Jacob asked, "Who wouldn't let her?"

"The black guy."

"The black guy," Martinez said, deadpanned.

"Yeah, the one with the dreds. A _leech_ ," Javier further explained. "He wouldn't let anyone leave. He told her that she needed to stay for the cause—whatever the hell that meant."

Jacob put a hand up, shaking his head, "You're not making any sense," he told the young man.

" _The guy_ ," Javier stressed. "He was like their leader or master, or some shit. Ordering them to do this. Ordering them to do that. They fucking listened to him, and then all _hell_ broke loose."

Jacob folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Who's _them_?"

Javier gulped, slapped his forehead and shook his head. "The bloodhounds," he said. "The Children of the Moon."

"Well, shit," Embry said, eyes wide. "Well, _shit_."

"How the hell does a vampire get hold of actual wolves?" Leah asked Embry. "I mean, I thought they hated each other."

"It's a little more complicated than that," Embry admitted.

"The black guy," Leah said, clearing her throat. "Javier was obviously talking about Laurent. Laurent is Victoria's right-hand man. I suppose he wouldn't do anything without Victoria knowing..."

"It _was_ a trap," Embry realized. "And they were just collateral. Every single one of them."

"Yeah, " Leah said, checking her phone for the time. 4:15. About three hours until she, Jacob and Embry met up their confidential informant, Benjamin al Fadhil. "Of course, it was."

* * *

"Edward Masen is still running the show," Benjamin announced to the team. He was parked next to the detective in their usual meeting spot, an abandoned parking lot-meeting place.

Ah, Carlisle. _Right_.

He had been out of commission since Memorial Day Weekend. Of course, Edward was his right-hand man until his actual boss recovered. What had thrown Leah off was that Carlisle was _still_ not well enough to work— he was an OG vampire (as Jacob would say); two bullets in non-vital areas were not supposed to knock the wind out of him.

"Carlisle's still on bedrest?" Leah asked.

Benjamin nodded. "I don't know what the hell is up with him," he admitted, appearing genuinely confused. "No one does. It wasn't like he got shot in the heart." He sighed. "His doctor said he would recover, but there are some rumblings that he might not. Or at least, not return to his old form. Some have accepted the fact that Edward's going to be in charge for the long run."

Jacob made a noise.

"And how is he doing?" Embry asked.

"Hate to admit this, but he's actually competent."

"Of course, he is," Jacob mumbled.

"How do you know so much about the Cullens?" Leah asked the agent. "Aren't you supposed to be working for the Volturi?"

"I am," Benjamin replied, suddenly amused. "Let's just say, they trust me more than the average person."

"You're the Volturi's plant," Leah realized.

"Bingo."

Leah had so many questions for the agent. About everything. About Jessica and Demetri's relationship. Sulpicia's missing necklace. The Denalis. Lauren's reluctance to enter witness protection (there had to be something behind that decision; she wasn't loaded. She wasn't a prominent figure—she shouldn't have all of this confidence). Mike's disappearance. And Gianna… she had worked with the Volturi. He _must_ have known her.

But Benjamin appeared to be in a rush to finish this conversation.

"Well, damn," Embry said, impressed.

"So, about Edward. He's not as emotional as Tanya or Carlisle," Benjamin carried on. "Very practical man, practical enough to devise a plan about how to deal with the deaths of Sasha and Vasili."

"Tanya wants the killers dead," Jacob pointed out.

"Well, Edward's trying to play arbitrator," Benjamin said. "After all, even he would admit that the deaths weren't personal. Sasha had violated a cardinal law; there's no going back to it."

"How's Esme?" Leah asked.

"Still playing the puppeteer," Benjamin said. "She's basically Carlisle's nurse for now." He shook his head and sighed. "Just something about his recovery doesn't sit right with me. Either his healing ability has declined significantly, or there's some serious tampering going on."

Leah checked out her partner's expression from the corner of her eye. He seemed to have the same mindset as Benjamin's. "Which one do you think it is?" Jacob asked.

"With that family, I honestly don't know," Benjamin admitted, turning on his car. "Anyway, I gotta go. Let's keep in touch. If everything works out, I may have some big news for you guys. Have any information about the slaughterhouse?"

"We should soon," Jacob promised, turning on his car as well. "We should soon."

* * *

"Riley."

"Detective."

"What do you have for me?" Leah asked Riley the following morning as she looked out into the distance; around her was nothing but nature: streams, trees, the sound of animals— and the narrow stone bridge they were standing on.

They weren't in Chicago; they were further out west. The detective hadn't wanted to take any chances by remaining within the city limits. She might not have all of the details, but there was an overwhelming feeling in the Windy City that it was the calm before the storm. Everyone was gearing up for something to explode, and the last thing she needed was to worry about her informant getting silenced. (She had reluctantly accepted the fact that Lauren's fate was sealed, but she still had a sliver of hope that the young woman would see the light before it was too late.)

"Laurent had set up a meeting between the Volturi and us," Riley said. "I don't have the precise details, but it's happening in August. Mid-August, I think."

Leah wrote Riley's words down in her trusted notepad. Mid-August, roughly a month from now. "Where?

Riley shrugged. "Laurent didn't say, but he did stress that we gotta be on the low. So, I guess nothing's happening downtown. Maybe the yards again. The boss has a lot of territory over there, and not many people chill over there so..." He shrugged again. "Yeah."

"You're going to be there?"

"Yeah," Riley said. "We're supposed to get some briefing about it next week."

"Thanks for the heads up," Leah said, and then, "I have a question for you: I remember you've mentioned something about your boss creating an army full of newborns. What was that for, exactly?"

"She wants to take down the Olympic coven," Riley said. "I mean, slaughter everyone and take over their territory and goods. She personally wants to take out Carlisle and Esme."

"What about Edward?" Leah asked. "Didn't he deliver the final blow?"

"Yeah, but he's just a soldier. Carlisle was the one who gave out the orders."

"And Esme?"

"She's his wife. Carlisle took James from Victoria, and now the Boss wants to take Esme away from Carlisle."

"Is that why Mike's happened?"

"The Cullen's and the Denali's pissed out a lot of people." Riley said, and then, "You got an update about Bree?"

"How does Victoria treat you, newborns?"

"She's a bitch to everyone not named Laurent—" Riley replied somewhat bitterly, and then, "So, about that update?"

"Bree was collateral," Leah said. It wasn't exactly protocoled to discuss an investigation with an informant, but Leah believed that none of this would jeopardize the case. She needed Riley to be wholly disillusioned with Victoria's gang, disillusioned enough to be willing to testify—Paul would understand.

"What the fuck did you say?"

Leah fought the temptation to smirk at the outburst. It wouldn't be right to be some smug about someone's pain, especially if that someone else wasn't a complete asshole. But this, a raging Riley? This was just what she needed. "We have reasons to believe that your boss, your maker, had arranged a trap for the Olympic, but it didn't really work out," she carefully explained, expression flat. "Your friend was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"It was a set-up?"

"We can't confirm—"

"The Cullens?" Riley asked. " _The_ _Denalis_?"

"Weren't there."

"She told us it was the Cullen's," Riley snarled, clenching his fists. "That _bitch_. I'm gonna—"

"Hey, you're not gonna do shit," Leah told the man. "I know you're upset, but don't do anything stupid. We're going to bring everyone down. I promise you that. You've been a big help to us; let's not fuck that up, alright?" When Riley's gaze began to lose focus, she snapped her fingers inches from his face. "Alright?"

"I—"

" _Alright_?"

Riley got the point. "Alright."

"Good."

After the duo went their separate ways, Leah received a phone call from an unknown number. Generally, she wouldn't have picked it up, but decide to do it anyway. "Yes?"

"Hey, Leah, it's your favorite vamp."

Leah sighed.

It was Benjamin.

"Can we meet up? I have something important to tell you. Bring the other two along... Preferably late tomorrow night 'cause I have to be somewhere..." Benjamin requested. "Oh, don't worry. You're going to love this."

* * *

"I can't lie. I didn't think you guys were gonna come."

"Good evening to you, too, Benjamin," Leah said, walking further inside. Their meeting place was at an abandoned warehouse, not far from Midway Airport.

Jacob and Embry followed closely behind, both trying to stifle their yawns; they had all just finished pulling yet another double-shift.

"Have faith in us, man," Embry joked.

"This better be good," Jacob warned, pulling out a chair from the corner of the large room. He haphazardly attempted to brush the dust off the furniture before sitting on it. He grimaced at the sound of the chair creaking but remained seated. "I'm supposed to be in bed right now."

"Oh, stop being such a grumpy, old man," Embry taunted, searching around the room for another chair without any luck.

Leah rolled her eyes.

"I'm not grumpy or old," Jacob grumbled.

"Oh, don't worry, I didn't call you here to spew out some BS," Benjamin ensured. "I wouldn't waste your time like that. Especially after you've all helped me so much with Emmett. Thanks again, for that."

"No problem," Jacob said.

"Some place, you have," Leah commented dryly, cringing at the state of the building they were in. She sure hoped the aging wooden columns wouldn't fail for the next hour or so. She would hate for one to give away and cause the entire warehouse to collapse on them.

"Yeah, I know it's not the best place, but it's outside our favorite covens' main territory," Benjamin said. "They won't come here." He looked around the room, rubbing his hands. "So… before I begin, can I ask for a favor? It's nothing too crazy, I swear."

Leah spoke up before Jacob could give the agent a piece of his mind; he had that _look_ on his face. "What is it? And remember, it needs to be legal."

"Of course. Believe me, I'm not trying to get any of you in trouble," Benjamin promised. "So, uh, I kinda need a place to crash for a while. I know I technically have one, but due to, uh... my actions, it would be nice to be somewhere where there's a huge police presence, just in case our favorite covens decide to send a hitman after me."

"Hitman?" Jacob raised both eyebrows. "Why can't the ATF do this?"

"My job isn't done," Benjamin said. "I can't have them extract me now."

Leah just blinked.

Embry crossed his arms. " _What the hell did you do_?"

"Yeah, what _did_ you do?" Leah asked, as well. Either Benjamin had done something brilliant or idiotic. Or both. There was a good chance that it could be both.

"I may have orchestrated a confrontation between various rival criminal organizations. I may have also provided them very important information. And given that, sadly, we're not dealing with some amateur arms dealer, they're going to find out that I played them both, and… they're not going to be very happy. So, to ensure that my head literally doesn't get ripped off, I was wondering if you can, I don't know… hide me a holding cell for some time? I want the covens to think I got caught for something and arrested."

"Explain," Jacob demanded.

"I had received some intel stating that the Volturi and Victoria's coven plan to have a meeting in a secluded location to discuss their business partnership. The Cullen's, the Denali's and those from Maria's coven plan to make a surprise appearance at said meeting… as you can imagine, they're not too happy about what happened at Mike's."

Leah's eyes widened. _Shit_ , Riley had been right about the meeting.

"You're saying some shit's gonna go down?" Jacob asked.

Benjamin smirked.

"So, who's going to be there?" Leah asked.

"The covens, a SWAT team and some of my people…"

"Your people…" Leah trailed off when she realized what was going on. No wonder the man was so damn giddy. And no wonder no one had been arrested as of yet. "You're planning a raid."

"Hell yeah, I am," Benjamin said, grinning. "We've been trying to nab those assholes for the longest. When a better time to pull out the cuffs than when you catch red-handed? We won't have to worry about requesting a subpoena or an arrest warrant. Those people are going to be fighting with each other—vampire versus vampire—and you can be damn sure that some ultra-violets are going to be used. Which, of course, it absolutely perfect because that's what we're after."

"How many people are going to be there?" Jacob asked.

"Everyone. My people, the Bureau, someone had mentioned something about the DEA. And of course, CPD. My superiors had already discussed it with your bosses, but the CPD is laying low. This is more of a federal-law enforcement thing. Something about the Deal," Benjamin explained. "The location is most likely going to be in somewhere in the stockyards…"

"No offense, but this sounds like another St. Patrick's," Jacob argued. "And everyone knows how _that_ turned out."

"It's going to be different," Benjamin promised. "I can assure you that we will have everything under control. They're working closely with the other departments. Making sure no innocent civilians get dragged into this mess is one of our most important objectives."

"Your track record hasn't been the greatest," Leah criticized. "Or ours…"

" _We're trying_ ," Benjamin insisted. "So, about me hiding in a holding cell…"

Jacob and Embry exchanged looks, obviously not being able to come up with a place they could stash the double agent—well, Leah supposed, _triple_ agent—at. Leah ran a hand down her face and sighed. "Why don't we keep him at Paul's?" she offered, remembering that the captain was pulling an overnight shift.

Jacob snorted at the suggestion. "You can't be serious…"

" _Paul_?" Embry asked, gulping. "Really?"

Benjamin observed both Jacob and Embry's reaction and couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive about the plan. "Uh… who's Paul?"

"Captain Paul Lahote. You probably haven't heard about him. Most of his work is underground; he leads a specialized gang unit," Leah explained. She knew the covens wouldn't _dare_ attack Paul's station, not unless they wanted all hell to break loose. "He won't mind holding if you in a cell, just as long as we give him a good enough reason to."

"This isn't going to work," Jacob told his partner. "He's gonna say no."

"Well, do you have a better suggestion?" Leah challenged.

Jacob immediately held up his hands and backed off.

Embry looked between the partners and sighed. He might not have liked the plan any more than Jacob did, but he wasn't going start an argument with Leah. Embry threw his hands up in defeat. "Oh, what the hell," he said. "Let's go to Paul's."

* * *

"So, whose wonderful idea was it to come here, interrupt my late-night snack that was more or less my lunch, and demand that I put someone in a cell, who isn't even under arrest at one fucking thirty in the morning?"

"It was Leah's."

Leah rolled at her eyes at Jacob who just tossed her under the bus, though it was understandable, she guessed. Paul wouldn't lash out on her.

"It was actually mine," Benjamin jumped in. "Leah is just the only one who has faith in me."

Paul crossed his arms. "And who the hell are you?"

"My C.I," Leah said before Benjamin could say a word. "The one I told you about."

"Oh, the one you didn't tell me about?"

"I told you to trust me on this."

"Trust her on this," Jacob told the captain. He looked around at the surroundings. They were only a handful of people still here. "I think we should discuss this in private."

* * *

"So, why is he here again?" Paul asked; his attention was directed at the detectives, just _done_. Leah couldn't blame him; he was on the overnight shift; it was supposed to be the laidback shift. Usually, all he had to do was send some people out on patrol and pray that the city's gangsters left him the hell alone.

"I think it goes without saying, but this conversation didn't happen for reasons I'm about to explain: Our C.I. is working on the low for the ATF, and in order not to get killed by the covens for planning an upcoming raid, he needs to lay low for a bit," Leah carefully explained. "Preferably here. You know the vampires aren't going to attack here. You know they're not going to attack _you_."

"And thank you for doing this favor—"

"I have _not_ agreed to do anything," Paul grumbled. He studied Benjamin. "You're not human, are you?"

"Humans are overrated," Benjamin joked but quickly adjusted when he caught sight of Paul's heated glare. "I'm a vampire."

"And an ATF agent," Paul added, flat; vampires weren't his favorite people, and Leah was positive that Benjamin had picked that fact up.

Benjamin shrugged. "I don't see how that's mutually exclusive, but yes, I am, and I will forever be grateful if you help me not get killed by my fellow brethren."

"What is your real name?"

Benjamin smirked. "Undercover, remember?"

Paul grumbled. "Leah, put him under witness protection, then." He looked at Jacob when Leah shook her head. "Jacob, come on, _here_?"

Jacob just shrugged. He obviously wasn't going to get involved, and neither was Embry. "It wasn't my idea."

"Witness protection wouldn't be wise," Leah said. "Since the chances of the covens exchanging blows are extremely high, it would be best to maintain contact with Benjamin without going through the ATF—you know if he's in witness protection, we would have to go through a ton of BS _and_ paperwork just to talk to him."

Paul groaned. "Speaking of this raid… do we have to make an appearance?" he asked.

"Apparently, it's outside our jurisdiction," Leah explained. "So, are you letting him stay here or not?"

Paul wanted to say no; he wanted to so badly. He finally relented. "How many days?"

"Two weeks."

Paul cursed under his breath. "The Hell?" He looked past the detectives and pointed at Benjamin, who still hadn't dropped his smug grin. "If your people start accusing me of unlawfully confining you, I'm not gonna be a happy man, understand?"

"You don't have to worry about a thing," Benjamin insisted, giving the captain two thumbs up. Paul wasn't amused. "Not a thing. And two weeks is the worst-case scenario. As long as everything doesn't go to shit, I'll be out of your hair in a few days."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Someone should stay with him, just in case those damn vampires show up," he suggested. "I'm not gonna put one of my men on him; they'll probably shit themselves, and I won't hear the end of it from the superintendent. I'm trying to avoid interacting with him."

* * *

Paul had ultimately decided to create shifts for Leah, Jacob, and Embry, all to make sure Benjamin didn't get killed. It wasn't the flashiest job, especially for seasoned detectives, but Leah couldn't say she minded. It gave her a chance to _slow_ down.

"This is why I can't get incarcerated. I'll lose my mind sitting in a cell for years."

"This _was_ your idea," Leah reminded the agent during the second-night of the babysitting. It was three in the morning, and Paul's precinct was practically empty save for a handful of cops, Paul, Leah, and Benjamin. Paul was "strategically" snoring inside his office. Jacob and Embry were still doing their late-night rounds, and Leah was keeping the self-proclaimed "triple-agent" company.

She stared down at the cup of triple-shot espresso resting on the floor next to her feet; that was her last resort. She didn't want to ingest yet another cup of pure liquefied caffeine; she already had five cups today.

"You look exhausted."

Leah yawned. "Understatement."

Benjamin shook his head. "Back when I was human, I would need to have at least four hours, and even that was pushing it. But now…"

Leah remembered that vampires didn't need sleep. "We, humans, need their sleep, being alive and all..." She winced as she trailed off, feeling a bit bad for saying something so insensitive. But Benjamin didn't take her comment to heart.

"Why don't you just take a nap?"

Leah eyed him suspiciously. "Nice try."

"No, seriously, take a power nap. I can hold the fort for a while, and Paul looks like he can definitely take of himself even with his snores."

"If you can do that, then they did we lock you in a holding cell in the first place?"

"There's a huge difference between fighting off vampires within an armed precinct and fighting them outside without protection. Huge. Massive."

"Point." Leah shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm good."

Her loud and long yawn convinced no one.

"Whatever you say..." Benjamin said, staring down at the caffeinated drink given to Leah for an energy boost. "You know, espresso is designed to keep you awake."

Leah gave him a tired, irritated look. "I know that."

"And you're not having any... why?"

"Because I've already had five cups—" Leah sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. "I don't need to answer any of your questions."

"You're just saying that because you know I'm right."

"You don't look too hot either," Leah bit back.

"Are you implying that I looked hot before?" Benjamin joked, wiggling his eyebrows. He let out a hearty chuckle when Leah glared at him. "I'm just messing with you." He stretched his arms. "Yeah, I'm a bit weary myself. And hungry… damn, I can drain a cow right now."

Leah grimaced at the thought, but she supposed it was better than Benjamin draining blood from a _human_. She opened her mouth in hopes of providing a sly remark, but then she realized that she had a bag of blood in her knapsack. She'd come across it at the warehouse as she was leaving—Benjamin must have dropped it; he had complained about the lack of blood during the entire ride to Paul's.

"Oh, sorry. I completely forgot to give this to you," Leah told the agent, pulling out a bag of blood from her purse. Benjamin's mouth went slack at the sight of it. "Here. So, you don't go crazy."

"You, Detective Leah Uley, are a life-saver," Benjamin breathed, unable to drop the grin off his face as he stared at his dinner with wonder. He ripped open the pouch with his teeth and quickly downed the contents.

Leah grimaced as the vampire licked the last drop of blood from the bag. "Why the blood?" she asked, and then corrected, "Why the preference for human blood?"

"It's our lifeline," Benjamin said, licking the blood around his lips. "The only thing that keeps us alive. And human blood... I can't explain it. There's a huge difference taste-wise between human and animal blood."

"What does it taste like?" Leah asked, finally treating herself to some caffeine.

" _Heaven_ ," Benjamin replied blissfully, and then under his break, "Took me a while to get my mind around the fact that I needed to drink blood to survive."

"I can't imagine," Leah said. "One moment, you can eat like a normal human, and then the next, only blood..."

"It is what it is," Benjamin said, shrugging and then, somewhat reluctantly, "So, I couldn't help but overhear some people discussing you and this other detective, Sam Uley. You're related? It sounded ugly—I'm not trying to pry or anything, but—"

Leah stared at him, dumbfounded. She didn't think she was that obvious, and he didn't even know the man. She thought she had gotten significantly better at acting nonchalant in the other detective's presence. Yet she barely knew the man, and he had managed to pick it up. She thought about lying and maybe even using a little threat, but instead, she quietly replied, perhaps against her better judgment.

"Husband," she said. "It didn't work out..."

Benjamin nearly choked on his meal. "Damn, sorry for even asking. People tell me that I… you know, get into people's business, and I know it's not my business—"

Goodness, that man could ramble.

"It's no big deal."

"I guess it's for the best," he said, attempting to be sympathetic. "I know it sucks, but look on the bright side: ex didn't kill you."

Leah frowned; if the man was trying to make her feel better, he was doing a horrible job. "Pardon?"

"My ex-girlfriend is the reason why I'm like this," Benjamin explained, gesturing to the left-over blood in the plastic bag.

Leah blinked. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"Did you want the bite?" Leah asked, suddenly very interested in Benjamin's story. "Did you know she was a vampire?"

"Hell no, to both questions," Benjamin said. "I like to keep things exciting, but not _that_ exciting."

"But I thought there are, you know... obvious signs?"

Benjamin shook his head. "Not all vampires look ghastly or bare their fangs every five seconds. Or _sparkle_ under the sun. You honestly couldn't tell with her."

"Or you," Leah added.

"Or me," Benjamin said, glancing back at his bare forearms. His tan skin might have lost some of its luster throughout the years, but it wasn't enough to even look like he was bleaching his skin. "Yeah, so, um... so ... yeah..."

"How did you turn?" Leah wondered. She knew the transformation had to be relatively recent. The ATF would have never hired Benjamin with their intensive background check if he was much older. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Hey, I pried into your life first. Yeah. So she bit me. The bite ended up poisoning me, and to save my life, she made me drink her blood." Benjamin pointed to the bottom of his neck; there was a faint scar: two bites that mysteriously hadn't healed even after the turn. "Didn't see it coming."

"She didn't ask...?"

"We were too _preoccupied_ for questions. At least, I was," Benjamin said, dropping his head, embarrassed.

"Preoccupied?"

"Yeah, we were... _busy_."

Leah nearly choked on her espresso. "She turned you during _sex_?"

"She gave a new meaning to _petit mort_ ," Benjamin said, snorting. And then after Leah laughed a moment and apologized for being insensitive, he insisted that, "I'm not offended. I know it sounds like a plot from a terribly clichéd vampire romance novel."

Leah was pretty sure something had written something about it. Probably in the works of writing a series and turning it to a string of movies. She hoped Benjamin would pay attention to the plot just in case he thought about suing for his story being stolen—she quietly snickered at the thought. Upon realizing that she was doing so in front of an audience, she brought a hand to her mouth and mumbled an apology, "But I have to ask," her curiosity wouldn't allow her not to, "Why did she do it?"

"She had aspired to create her coven," Benjamin said before letting out a humorless laugh.

"Where is she now?"

"Dead. Really dead," Benjamin quietly replied. "I killed her."

Leah's eyes widened at the confession. It wasn't something she had expected, especially from someone like the agent beside her. Yes, he was undercover and certainly wasn't slouch. _But that_? And the fact that he had admitted it to someone he barely knew.

"She did try to kill me _again_. She wasn't too happy about me ending things. Said I was overreacting. That I should be grateful for receiving such a gift," Benjamin quickly further explained himself, voice unrecognizable. "I couldn't—I'm not proud of what I did. I mean, it was justifiable. The judge thought so, too and with her being, you know… _Fuck_."

"It was out of self-defense," Leah reasoned.

"Well, yeah..." Benjamin trailed off, staring down at his lap, and then in a strangled voice, he declared that, "She was still the love of my life. We were supposed to stay together. Get married. Have some babies. Grow old." He paused and cursed under his breath. "She was supposed to be the _one_."

 _So, was he_ , Leah thought, aimlessly staring ahead. "I know exactly what you mean."

Neither person said much after that.


	26. Chapter 26

**Twenty-Six**

* * *

The plan was simple: eavesdrop over the meeting between the Volturi and Victoria's crew. Gather some useful intelligence. Wait for the Olympic coven and their allies to make an appearance and right before the fireworks began, arrest everyone and seize everything. Enough evidence should be gathered for a slam-dunk trial, and everyone would go to prison.

"It shouldn't be _that_ difficult," Benjamin said from his holding cell before downing his dinner a second-hand gallon water container. He smirked at the squeamish look on Leah's face; it had been days since the agent had arrived at the station, each night, Leah would hand him his food, and each time, she couldn't digest the sight of the man _drinking blood_.

One of these days, she vowed, she would get used to it.

Embry ran a hand down his face and breathed out, "Oh, boy..."

"Famous last words, Benjamin," Jacob said, unlocking the gate to the agent's holding cell. He stepped aside to let the man walk out. "So, will you be hanging out with us or...?"

Benjamin shook his head. "No can do," he said. "My _employers_ can't know that I've been talking to you guys. I'm going to hang out with my vampire-buddies, and then see how it goes."

"What if someone mistakes you for being one of them?" Leah asked.

"I mean, I _am_ one of them," Benjamin replied cheerily before remembering that Leah was dead-serious. "Oh, you mean actually being a part of the coven." He shrugged. "Not too concerned. Anyway, if they shoot me, hopefully without a UV, I can always get back up." His wave was dismissive. "I'll be fine."

* * *

"It'll be fine."

Leah didn't know who was less convincing: her "temporary" captain, pacing around his office with his third Red Bull in his hand or the undercover agent currently hiding out in the station's holding cell.

"It's not like it's _our_ raid," Paul said, though it sounded like he was telling himself that rather than the detectives and the cop in his office. "We're just providing support. Surveillance. Operating the radios. Making sure none of those fuckers leave the stockyards without handcuffs."

"Aren't you worried about this raid turning into the second coming of St. Patrick's?" Jacob asked.

"St. Patrick's was a one-time shit show," Paul pointed out, aiming his can of pop at the detective. "This one is going to work out perfectly fine. Fine enough that we'll all star in some documentary about the most successful raid in years."

Embry snorted. "I thought you never wanted to be in a documentary?"

Paul narrowed his eyes at the cop. "Not the point," he said. "The point is: this ain't gonna be another St. Patrick's, got it?"

* * *

"The raid isn't going to happen until mid-August," Aisha told her friend as they walked out of the station, both craving a much-needed lunch away from work. Preferably at the other side of the city, but given their time constraints, they had to eat somewhere local. "We have some time to get things in order."

"I keep on forgetting that there are more things to this case than the raid," Leah admitted, catching the car keys tossed her way. They were taken Aisha's car, but the other detective had twisted her arm while apprehending a stubborn member of the Fang's earlier; Leah offered to drive. "Mike's not cooperating. And then we have that hotel manager who may or may not accept that plea."

Aisha sighed. "It never ends." She entered the car the moment her friend did. "Everyone's freaking out about that raid... a part of me thinks it's overkill. I mean, like Paul said, it's not _really_ our mission; we're only providing support. But I guess kinda get it. St. Patrick's was a hot, flaming mess."

"Yeah, but that had been years ago," Leah argued. "Things have changed. Rules were put in place. Plus, it's not happening in the middle of the city like last time. Who's hanging around the stockyards anymore?'

"You're starting to sound like that agent Paul's keeping in his holding cell," Aisha said, chuckling. "But I guess we need to think positively."

"Yeah," Leah said, putting the key into the ignition. "We have no other choice."

* * *

Aisha was right. St. Patrick's was a hot, flaming mess even though Leah didn't know the whole story.

In her defense, not many people did. Technically, two versions were floating around about events of March 17, 2013— the one provided to the media and therefore the public, and the one provided to and experienced by multiple municipal and federal law enforcement agencies. Which in turn, as expected, generated even _more_ versions.

In layman's terms, St. Patrick's Day Massacre started with a sting operation that had gone, terribly, horribly wrong.

When shit first had hit the fan, Leah hadn't been there to see the events unfold with her own eyes. She had been a detective strictly working in the special victims' arenas; drug busts had never been her thing. But it eventually would be; practically every detective under the sun had been assigned to investigate the aftermath.

Twenty-nine dead. All shot to death in the basement of an abandoned building— and that total didn't involve all of the deaths and injuries sustained by law enforcement. But Leah hadn't been assigned to investigate what happened to the cops and the agents. No, just the first twenty-nine. It had irked her to no end.

When she had asked her captain about it, he had said, "Gang war. It's getting out of hand."

"What happened with the cops and the agents?"

The captain, sitting at his desk, had glanced up at the newly-appointed detective, seemingly taken aback by her question. Horrified that she even had to ask. In his eyes, he had feared that he had spoken too much. "It doesn't matter."

Clearly, it had.

"Captain—"

" _Detective_ ," the captain had replied, effectively silencing her questions. And then, he had returned to the original point of the conversations. "Just get to the bottom of these murders. The twenty-nine," he had stressed.

He obviously hadn't wanted Leah to explore the other side of the disaster.

Accepting there was nothing she could do but follow her supervisor's orders, she said, "Yes, sir."

* * *

It still bothered her years later.

Sam had known more about it—what else was new? But Sam, being Sam, hadn't mentioned much about it. Just, "The world's a fucking crazy place."

That hadn't been helpful.

So, months later, in January, one week before the Dahlia murder, Leah had asked the next best person.

Jacob had blinked, also taken aback by Leah's question. But it had probably had more to do with the fact that the partners had been standing in the middle of a crime scene— a domestic dispute turned fatal. "What...? What do you mean?"

"St. Patrick's," Leah had clarified. Though she hadn't felt that she needed it; everyone on the force had known what that holiday stood for. "I know about the basement murders. I was helping out with that investigation, but I distinctly remember my captain being extremely invasive about what happened to the cops. To the agents. He wouldn't let me go into it; he wouldn't let me as about it."

Jacob had let out a sigh, indicating to Leah that he had known just exactly what she had been talking about. He had gulped and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "A fucking shit storm," he had said. "That's what happened."

Leah had huffed. "So, you're not going to tell me the whole story?"

"It's not my story to tell," Jacob had replied, actually sounding quite regretful. "Let's just say that was the reason why Paul has his task force. Even the most skeptical of bureaucrats couldn't let those damn leeches run around like they fucking own this city." He had frowned. "And then, you have those goddamn shapeshifters..."

Leah had eyed her partner, confused. She had already learned about the existence of the supernatural, but Jacob's words hadn't made any sense. "But—"

"Black. Uley," a cop from across the destroyed bedroom had called out, seemingly alarmed. "You gotta see this!"

The conversation had been dropped altogether.

* * *

It would never happen again, the police and the state and federal government had vowed, but to everyone working in the Voldemort Taskforce, whether they wanted to admit it or not, they had a bad feeling that they would be proven wrong.

Paul's (and Benjamin's) promises, be damned.

"I think everyone's just being paranoid," Jenks told Leah during one of their weekly meet-ups in his office. "St. Patrick's freaked them out, and now, they think every raid is going to turn up like _that_. We've had plenty of raids since; all went relatively well. This is going to turn out fine, Leah."

"I'm sure it will, Jenks."

"Anyway, we should focus on the task at hand," Jenks said. "I believe we have a very interesting interview coming up, featuring a very stubborn hotel manager. I'm glad he's decided to see the light by being open to a plea deal. Let's see what he has to give us."

* * *

"We are truly glad that you've agreed to speak to us," Leah said a few days later, sitting down at the table in the middle of the interrogation room. She neatly placed all of the case files on the table, folding her hands on top of them, attention entirely on the two men sitting in front of her: Andrew Sullivan, the manager of LaPush, and his lawyer, Marco Balthazar.

Jacob followed suit, holding a cup holder, carrying drinks. After giving Leah her coffee and placing his own in his spot, he offered both Sullivan and Balthazar their coffees. After all, it was seven in the morning, and judging from the memo they had received from Balthazar, Brutus, and Associates the day before, this "interview" was going to be a long one.

"I'm glad we were able to come to some agreement," Balthazar said before thanking Jacob for the much-needed drink and taking a sip. His client, sitting next to him, had his arms crossed, silent with his mouth downturned; he didn't touch his coffee.

"That's what we're all about. Making deals," Jacob said. "Detective Uley, you want to do the honors?"

"Sure," Leah said. "Let's get started. So, from what we've agreed, you, Andrew Thomas Sullivan, have accepted a plea deal for your involvement in the Dahlia case, am I right?"

"Shouldn't the prosecutor be here, as well?" Sullivan asked, glancing at his lawyer.

"Oh, he will be," Leah assured the man. "But it's usually a good idea to get the details situated before involving the man bringing charges against you."

"We're here to help you out," Jacob added, sharing a look with his partner as Sullivan whispered something into his lawyer's ear.

Sullivan sat back up after Balthazar gave him a response—the man was urging his client to cooperate, Leah concluded—sighed and said, quite dejected, "Whatever you want."

"Let's street from the beginning," Leah suggested, opening the first file. "Shall we?" Before Sullivan could respond, she continued, "How long have you been the manager for LaPush?"

"Ten years."

"And how would you describe your tenure?"

"Fine."

" _Fine_ ," Jacob repeated. "Define that for us."

"Business is good," Sullivan said, sitting up in his chair. "We haven't suffered much loss even during the Recession back in '08. We were only involved in a handful of lawsuits, which for a business, isn't the end of the world."

"That's good," Leah said, jotting down some notes. "So, what was the nature of your relationship with Demetri Karlov?"

Sullivan glanced at Balthazar, waiting for a confirmation. The lawyer nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. Sullivan sighed and replied with, "I wouldn't call him a friend. He worked for some powerful people, people with money."

"So, you two had more of a business relationship?" Leah asked.

Sullivan nodded.

"And what did this relationship entail?"

"He wanted a room."

"2919?"

Sullivan nodded.

"And was that room exclusively reserved for Demetri?"

Sullivan nodded.

"What was the payment arrangement for Room 2919?" Jacob asked. "That was a presidential executive suite. One of the most expensive rooms in the hotel. Did he rent it out or…?"

Sullivan shook his head. "He wasn't always in the city," he said. "It would've been a complete waste of money to sign a lease."

"How frequently did he use Room 2919?"

"Maybe three, four times a month."

"Anywhere else?"

"No."

"How did you get into this arrangement?" Leah asked.

"The man comes from power, from wealth," Sullivan said, eyes shifting from one edge of the table to the other; he was getting nervous, not because of the interview itself, but whom he was talking about. "He made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Financially."

"Does that offer have anything to do with paying off your debts?" Leah asked, pulling out Sullivan's bank statements. He had been in the hole up until 2015; that must have been the year Demetri had made him the offer.

"It helped," Sullivan admitted.

"How much the room cost per night?" Leah asked.

Sullivan shrugged. "Roughly two thousand."

"A night?" Jacob asked, fetching another file folder to retrieve the LaPush hotel rates printed from its website site. "The Presidential Suite, during the busy season, only goes for one thousand per night," he said. "Two thousand is quite a mark-up."

"My client has already mentioned that he had some financial trouble," Balthazar pointed out. "This shouldn't be much of a surprise."

"I'm pretty sure charging twice the rate to reserve a room for a known mobster is violating plenty of laws," Leah retorted. "Not to mention, I'm sure the IRS would be like to know why Mr. Sullivan did not claim over one hundred thousand dollars of extra income on his taxes."

Sullivan cursed under his breath.

Jacob cleared his throat. "Mr. Sullivan?"

"I may have taken in some money under the table," Sullivan quietly admitted. "But it wasn't for me. It was for everyone involved, all to keep our mouths shut. I didn't think much of it. Pimps bring their girls around in hotels all the time, since forever. As long as nothing crazy happens, I look the other way."

"As in girls, my client meant women _over_ the age of eighteen," Balthazar clarified.

Sullivan nodded vehemently, following up with, "I'm not into _that_. There may be things I let pass by, but not that. I got a little girl. I couldn't imagine anyone—"

Jacob put up a hand. "We got the point."

"I just wanted to let you know that."

"It's nice to know that you're not contributing to the sexual exploitation of minors," Leah said, deadpanned. She then pulled a photo and slid it across the table. "Who is she?"

Sullivan looked down. "His girlfriend."

"Got a name?"

Sullivan shrugged. "Jen, Gina—or something?"

"Or something," Leah repeated.

"The rooms were never registered under her," Sullivan explained. "There was no reason why I should know her personal information—"

Jacob's eyes narrowed when he asked, "Demetri never introduced this woman to you?"

"He was possessive about his girls."

" _Ah_ ," Leah said; she figured that as much. "So, Demetri had girls. He brought them around occasionally and made use for Room 2919. Did he actually pimp them out?"

Sullivan shook his head. "Like I said: he was possessive."

"So, no?"

"No," Sullivan confirmed, and then, "He was, I guess you can call... a freak. Into that BDSM mess, not that I'm judging, but the whole bloody-play..." He shook his head. "Not my thing."

"Talk about this blood-play."

"Look, I didn't look _into_ it," Sullivan said. "Hey, the man was popular with the ladies. Something about him being a real vampire; some people find that hot. Some people actually believe that mess is real and drink blood and want people to bite their necks and everything…"

Leah leaned back in her chair and nodded along as Sullivan provided information about Demetri's sex-life. He didn't know about Demetri being a vampire; that actually might work in their favor if Sullivan had to testify in front of a jury.

"Did Demetri only bring women in for sex?" Jacob asked once Sullivan was finished.

Sullivan sought advice from his lawyer by whispering into his Balthazar. Balthazar mumbled something back.

"For the most part. He brought a few guys over, too," Sullivan admitted, finally taking a sip of his coffee. His nerves had returned. "Room 2919, deals have happened in that room. Nothing drug-related, but... I think it had something to do with arms."

"Like weapons?"

Sullivan nodded.

"In this day and age?" Jacob asked. "Haven't you been paying attention to the news about mass shootings? Now, you're letting people, who you know operate on the other side of the law, bring arms into _your_ hotel?"

Balthazar gave Jacob a sharp look.

" _Of course, not_ ," Sullivan denied, becoming heated. "We have strict rules about guns. We even installed metal detectors this past Fall. Listen, from what I know, which isn't much, the deals involved bullets. Glow-in-the-dark ones, straight from Eastern Europe."

Leah blinked.

Well, _damn_.

She made a notation to inform Benjamin about this new development. She was positive the ATF (and Paul) would appreciate this.

Jacob, whose interest had jumped a tenfold as well, leaned in, resting his chin in his hand. "Go on."

"We receive a stipend to keep our mouths shut," Sullivan said, glancing at his lawyer; he didn't receive any objections or alarmed looks. "I know it's against the law, but the money's always good. And it's always in cash. Real cash. Never counterfeit."

"When do these deals happen in your hotel?" Jacob asked.

"Second week of each month."

"She was killed on the fifteenth," Leah reminded her partner.

Jacob nodded, and then, "And you weren't present on those days, Mr. Sullivan?"

"Most days, unless something happens, I leave work at 8:00 pm. I usually talk to the man for a few before leaving."

"I understand," Leah said, and then, "From your perspective, what happened that night that resulted in the murder of the Dahlia and Gianna Castellano?"

Sullivan dropped his arms and raised both eyebrows, "Wait— _what_?"

Balthazar eyed Leah, concerned.

"The Dahlia—"

"No, I know about her. Shit, everyone knows about her," Sullivan said, "But _Gianna_?"

"Two people were murdered in very that room during that same night," Leah carefully explained, finding the manager's reactions quite interesting. "We have reasons to believe that the second victim was Demetri's girlfriend, as you call her: Gianna Castellano."

"He told me it was only the Dahlia."

"Who told you?"

Sullivan's gaze dropped to the table.

Leah decided to switch gears, knowing that she would get the answer soon enough. She pulled another photo and presented it to the manager and his lawyer. "As you can see, this is the crime scene my partner and I walked into on the night of January 15th. In Room 2919 at your hotel—Tell us what happened that night, Mr. Sullivan."

"I wasn't there," Sullivan said quietly, examining the photo, occasionally cringing. "I didn't meet Demetri or anyone. I had a recital to attend. I have kids, you know."

"We know," Jacob said, and then, "So, you're telling us that you have no idea what happened that night?"

"I wasn't there."

"But you knew something."

"I didn't hear anything until a couple of hours later when I found out that the cops were heading over to the hotel," Sullivan said. "I had to be there, for obvious reasons. My security told me the news when I arrived."

Leah made a note of this. "What did they say?"

"The cops found a woman, cut in half, in one our presidential suites," Sullivan said, eyes not leaving the photo. "They said no one heard anything or seen anything. It wasn't until a maid checked in—"

"There wasn't a do-not-disturb sign on the door?" Leah asked.

Admittedly, it was something she hadn't checked when she had visited the crime scene for the first time.

Sullivan shrugged. "I don't know." He sighed. "I mean, maybe? It depended or not if Demetri was finished with whatever the hell he was doing. If he were busy, obviously the sign would up. If he were finished, he would put the service-needed placard on the door so the room could be thoroughly cleaned."

"And what time would that be?"

"It depends," Sullivan said. "Usually, he would call the front desk when he finished."

"Did he?"

"Not to my recollection."

Leah glanced at her partner to see what he was thinking; he could be very expressive during question. He was just as perplexed as she was. Her attention returned to Sullivan, "How many people did your security say were found inside Room 2919?"

Andrew checked with his lawyer and responded after receiving the green light. "Two."

"Two?" Jacob repeated. " _Two_."

"If your security told you that two people were dead," Leah said, already feeling a migraine creeping through. "Then why were you surprised when we mentioned about another victim?"

"Look, they told me two," Sullivan said. "But there was so much going on, I didn't believe them. I mean, why should I have? Everyone—the maid, the cops, everyone said that they only saw _one_ body. I even asked Demetri about it the next day, and he told me there was only _one_ body. Heck, the goddamn Volturi stopped by my office the next day, telling me that there was only one body. Look, the second one? I'm guessing is this Gianna-person you're talking about. I didn't even hear about her until a couple of minutes ago."

"The Volturi stopped by. Demetri talked to you about the murder, and you didn't think to contact _us_ about it?" Leah asked, frustration growing.

"I know I messed up. But what I was supposed to do? They told me to keep my mouth shut. They told me to get rid of the tapes. They told me to do it as soon as possible. What did you expect me to do?" Sullivan practically cried, ignoring Balthazar cursing under his breath. "You just can't say no to the Volturi. It's a goddamn death sentence."

Leah looked at her partner. Jacob nodded before shaking his head and sighing. Leah, deciding on how to proceed with the interview, pushed back her chair and asked, "Balthazar, do you mind if we have an aside?"

Balthazar nodded, slowly rising from his seat. He seemed stunned by the information as well. "Yes, please."

* * *

"You didn't mention anything to us about the Volturi," Leah told Balthazar the moment they stepped outside of the interview room. Thankfully, due to the time of the morning, not many people were around, pay much attention to them.

"I just found out when you did," Balthazar insisted. He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair and sighed. " _Fuck_."

"Fuck is right," Leah agreed, and then, "We need to put that man under witness protection. Like yesterday."

"I already mentioned that to him _before_ learning that the Volturi threatened him," Balthazar said, annoyed. "But he refuses. He doesn't want to ruin his home life."

"He's not going to have _a_ life if he keeps this up," Leah reminded him. "If we put him on the stand and he says what he just told us, he's dead. But if he doesn't testify, he can kiss his plea deal goodbye."

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Then why did we accept the goddamn deal in the first place?"

"Because we didn't know about the Volturi's explicit involvement either," Leah said. "After all the questionings, Sullivan decides to tell us, _you_ , this _today_?"

The last thing anyone _needed_ was a dead witness.

Balthazar let out a sigh. "I'll talk to him."

* * *

"You know, I'd like to have one week where shit doesn't hit the fan every time I turn around," Paul grumbled once the detectives plus Embry informed him of the Andrew Sullivan news. The captain downed most of his coffee and slammed a hand on his desk, indicating he was ready to continue, "So, Andrew Sullivan is being placed under witness protection."

"There's no choice," Jacob said. "The Volturi's gonna kill him."

"They probably still can," Embry said. "I mean, this is the Volturi."

Leah snorted. "I appreciate your optimism, Embry."

"Hey, I'm just being honest," Embry maintained, throwing his hands up in defense, and then, more serious, "So, um, I think there's another issue with Sullivan's interview—he didn't know about Gianna. No one told him about Gianna. Isn't that a tad… suspicious?"

"She was a receptionist at one of the Volturi-owned companies out in Cicero," Leah replied. "And according to Sullivan, Demetri's girlfriend. Nothing else we have on her that implicates anything nefarious."

"And Alistair?" Paul asked.

"According to him, he doesn't work with every girl with a pretty face," Jacob said. "But maybe this has something to do with Gianna luring women into Demetri's lair."

"But why not mention her demise to anyone?" Embry asked.

"Maybe they were hungry?" Leah offered with a shrug. "Demetri no longer had any use of Gianna, probably because of the whole Jessica-episode, and she was a human… so, maybe he brought her back to the Volturi-whatever so that he and his comrades could feed on her."

"The Volturi are known for doing that," Jacob said, grimacing.

"But that seems so simple?"

"Sometimes it just is, Embry," Leah said. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why Gianna's body had been taken from the hotel room before anyone came."

"You know, it's quite inconvenient that fucktard, Demetri, is dead," Paul said. "He seemed to be the linchpin to all of this mess." He clapped. "So, Sullivan said that Demetri was a freak, right?"

Jacob eyed the captain. "Right."

"What's your point?" Leah asked.

"Well, sometimes, _most of the time_ , they more _open_ ones aren't too shy about what they do. Some of them like to take photos; some like to record it—but they tend to like leaving evidence. Just so they can go back… and, _you know_ , with it."

"Masturbation material?" Embry offered with a sly smirk.

Jacob snorted.

Leah placed a hand on her forehead and groaned. " _Oh my god_."

"I didn't want to say it like that, _Call_ , but yes," Paul said, uncharacteristically flustered. But that was most likely because Leah was in his office right now, looking at Embry like he was a fool. Paul coughed uncomfortably and apologized to Leah.

Leah could only shrug. "There's no need to apologize," she assured the captain who was still giving Embry dirty looks. "I've been scarred enough working on this case for the past several months. What's picturing a dead, sadistic vampire getting himself off going to do?"

"Damn," Jacob said. "That's really sad."

"You have no idea," Leah said, shaking her head, replaying the events from this past January in her head. "You have no idea."

"What do you want us to do, Boss?" Embry asked. "Sullivan implicated a bunch of people, most from the Volturi, in a cover-up for two homicides."

Paul sighed. "Look for any physical evidence that Demetri had been in the room with those two ladies-" He put up a hand when Jacob opened his mouth. "I know you have the video... but we need something more concrete. I need to see all three people, the dealers, and the bullets."

"So, we're not arresting anyone?" Leah asked.

"No can do," Paul said. "Look, I wished we could, but we promised the feds that we won't touch _anyone_ until the raid."

"This raid better work," Jacob grumbled, crossing his arms. "Can we at least bring in the security? See if anyone knows _anything_ about Gianna?"

"Go right ahead."

* * *

"When is he coming back?" Leah asked, staring into the distance. Lake Michigan, as always, was beautiful at sundown, especially during this time of year. Because of the hour, it wasn't crowded with "beach-goers" and whatnot.

"January."

Leah glanced at Aisha, sitting beside her, adjusting the edges of her large beach towel. She was never a fan of sand. "Are you positive?"

"Almost," Aisha admitted, pulling out a bottle of wine from her tote bag. She pulled two cups and handed one to her friend. "We can't truly be certain, but that's the best-case scenario."

"Emily's child will be born by then," Leah said, placing the cup aside. She brought her knees to her chest, trying to hold back her devastated tears. "She's due in October."

"Damn."

"I don't know if I told you," Leah mumbled, rubbing her eyes before reaching out for her cup and holding it out for Aisha. Yes, she was supposed to be avoiding alcoholic drinks, but one glass of red wine never harmed anyone. "But I went to a divorce lawyer to explore my options. Can't do shit until Sam comes back from hiding."

Now, that she was thinking about it, she probably did tell Aisha.

"I'm so sorry."

"I can't believe I fucking listened to him," Leah bit out, staring down at her drink. "He wanted to _wait_. I told him that I wanted a divorce time before he went away, but he wanted me to wait. And now, look at this? I'm stuck in a goddamn marital-limbo because he decided to go undercover. Do you believe this shit?"

Aisha shook her head, "There's no way to get around this?"

"According to Illinois State Law, no," Leah replied before downing all of her wine in one gulp.

She declined Aisha's offer for another glass.


	27. Chapter 27

**Twenty-Seven**

* * *

"Maybe it's good that he's a ghost until January," Jacob told Leah as he handed her a steaming cup of hot chocolate. They were on Michigan Avenue, standing in front of the chocolate-heaven that was Ghirardelli's. "For his sake, at least. Then, he doesn't have to worry about _me_ kicking his ass."

Leah laughed. "You're sweet,"

She took a long sip of the chocolate-filled goodness, savoring the taste. She was supposed to be on a diet, as always, but Jacob often tended to make sure s _he wasn't_.

"You think I'm joking."

"I know you're not," Leah said. She leaned in, whispering as some people passed by, "But here's the thing: if you kick his ass, how you would do it in a way that he knows it's not _you_? As appealing as your plan sounds, I don't wanna see you get disciplined because of my drama. I'm not really in the mood to get another partner."

"I'll turn into a wolf," Jacob replied confidently, face breaking into a wide, toothy grin, revealing his canines.

Leah rolled her eyes. She looked around to make sure no one noticed Jacob's fangs. "I don't want you to _kill_ the man."

"Oh come on, give me enough credit," Jacob said, dramatically bringing his hot chocolate to his chest, causing Leah to laugh again. "I do know a thing or two about self-control, thank you. Okay, maybe I'll just scare the shit outta him, would that work?'

"No, then he may just shoot you."

"As long as it's not silver, I'm good."

Leah shook her head at that, hiding an amused smile behind her cup. Perhaps, she shouldn't entertain the idea of _entertaining_ Jacob's plan to beat Sam up. But damn it, after all of the bullshit had put her through since December, he deserved it.

"Just let me know when you want it to happen."

Leah downed some more of the "diabetes in a cup." The hot chocolate definitely hit the spot. It was something she needed right after her shift ended.

"It's not gonna happened," she promised Jacob. "But if I change my mind, you'll be the first to know."

"That's all you gotta tell me."

"You're a mess," Leah said and then blinked a couple of times when the realization at hit her. Jacob had brought himself his hot chocolate. It shouldn't have been a big deal; it really wasn't, but, "Wait—shouldn't you _not_ have anything chocolatey?"

"What makes you say that?"

Leah could recall a time when she was younger, accidentally feeding her precious dog a couple of MM's. Long story short, she had spent the rest of the day at the vet, crying her eyes out. Her dog ended up living for the next several years, but even now, she felt guilty about the slip-up.

"When I was around ten, I accidentally poisoned my dog with MM's," she said. "I didn't know about the chocolate allergy until I read somewhere that it's pretty much poisonous for dogs. Dogs, wolves..."

"It makes my stomach hurt," Jacob admitted, staring at his drink as if he had remembered himself that he had poison in his hand. "And _okay_ , I guess I shouldn't have this... but I can't resist a mean hot chocolate. Especially from Ghirardelli's."

"Is that wise?" Leah asked, concerned. She hated when Jacob became callous about his well-being, behaving in the same manner he had after Riley had shot him. "They use real chocolate."

"Nothing good ol' Pepto Bismol can't fix," Jacob declared before virtually gulping down the rest of his hot chocolate."

"It's not funny, _Jacob_."

"Leah," Jacob insisted. "I'll be fine."

"If I have to take you to the hospital—Oh right, you can't go _there_." She rolled her arms, poking Jacob's chest. "If I have to drop you off at your house and call your sister and Embry so they can nurse you on a Thursday night, I'm not going to be happy."

"Damn, you're starting to sound like Paul," Jacob said, giving Leah a cheeky smile. "Remind me never to have anything _chocolatey_ around you."

"You heard what I said."

* * *

"Leah, a cup of hot chocolate ain't gonna kill me. I promise."

Leah raised an eyebrow before shoving a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. "Are we still talking about this? Two days later?" she asked, reaching for a napkin to wipe her face. She checked the time on her desk phone and sighed. 7:58 am. Two minutes until she had to start on her reports.

Whoever invented reports should _burn_.

"You're the one who brought it up," Jacob pointed out, wagging a finger at his partner who only rolled eyes— a common reaction of hers. "And now, I'm distressed because I feel like you'd be judging me every time I have something made out of chocolate. I'll let you know that I've developed a tolerance over the years."

"Oh, poor you," Leah taunted, shaking her head, not believing they were having this conversation. If Embry were here, and not coming in until the afternoon to help his mother move, he would be laughing his head off. She leaned in and asked, half-joking, "So, what else are you allergic to?"

Jacob leaned in as well, narrowing his eyes, partially suspicious. "Why you ask?"

Leah let out a chuckle before sitting back up. She pushed aside her oatmeal and turned on her computer. "Just in case I want to poison you," she said, looking straight into her partner's eyes with the most serious stare she could muster.

It didn't last long.

"Leah, if you wanted to look out for my well-being _so badly,_ you have just told me instead of issuing a threat." Jacob laughed when Leah threw a pen at him. "So, violent."

"Just get to work, Black."

"Grapes."

Leah blinked. "Huh?"

"And I shouldn't consume sugar-free drinks or candy. The chemical they used, Xylitol, messes me _up_ , if you know what I mean."

Leah gagged. " _Ugh_ , I don't need to know about your bowel movements."

"You're the one who asked," Jacob said, grinning, not understanding why Leah was so offended, and then, "Okay, enough about me. On to more pressing matters: the slaughterhouse murder's main suspects are Victoria and Laurent..."

Leah nodded. "Paul said that the feds aren't looking into those murders. It's all on us, which is fine, I suppose. We don't want the feds to have everything. They seem more interested in bringing Victoria in for other crimes. As for the Fang's, Javier's, because of his cooperation, only going down for disorderly conduct. The last of his friends, only time will tell."

"Bree and the others died because of a trap set up by their lovely leader," Jacob said, shaking his head. "The day she goes down—I don't even know how I'll react."

Leah agreed. Sure, the other covens had multiple murders under their belt, they were more careful. More strategic— though, the Denali murders seemed like an outlier.

"Heard anything from your cousin?" Leah asked.

"We don't talk," Jacob said, frowning. "But as far as I know, he's being hands off. Doesn't want to be dragged into this shit show."

"Should've thought about that before partnering up with Victoria."

* * *

"Word on the street is that Sorio is recusing himself from all cases relating to the Cullen's, the Denali's and the Volturi," Aisha informed Leah the moment she walked passed her desk. It was early Monday morning, the last one in July. "We should be receiving the official notice later."

"Wow." Leah's eyes flickered across the room where Jacob and Embry were standing, fetching water from the office water cooler. Jacob soon caught her eye, grinned and waved. Leah waved back. She returned her attention to her friend. "About damn time."

Jenks was probably popping a bottle of champagne in his own office, pacing around in absolute glee.

"That's what I said."

"What prompted this decision?" Leah asked. "Sorio isn't the one to take a step back."

"The heat's getting to him," Aisha said. "I don't have any details about a potential indictment— my contacts are being annoyingly tight-lipped—but I'll let you know when I get the details."

Tight-lipped contacts generally meant that something was about to go down, Leah concluded, nodding at her friend's words, and then, "What does that mean for all his pending judgments?" she asked. "The permanent injunction hearing for the Dahlia's autopsy is next week."

Aisha shrugged. "Yeah, I doubt that's happening," and then, "But this should be good for you guys, right? One less bureaucratic hurdle."

"Who's taking his place?"

"Judge Patrick Lawson," Aisha said, conveying no emotion. "He's one of the good ol' boys, but he's not nearly as much of an asshole as Sorio."

* * *

"It looks like we could have waited," Leah told Jenks later that day as she sat inside his office. Jacob was beside her, checking his phone for any updates regarding the slaughterhouse murders. Martinez caught some more Collin's fools (as Jacob would call them). "Would have saved us of time coming up with backdoor deals."

"None of us are psychics," Jacob pointed out, seemingly not concerned. "And anyway, your plans worked."

Jenks agreed. "We could have waited," he said, "But there was a possibility that Sorio wouldn't recuse himself before the permanent injunction hearing. Plus, we got Lauren back and alive," He sighed. "Speaking of her, has she changed her mind about choosing the Sullivan route?"

As of last Wednesday, Andrew Sullivan was officially under witness protection.

Smart man.

"No," Leah said, crossing her arms.

Jacob, sharing his partner's frustration, followed up with, "She claims that she doesn't need the protection. She has everything under control."

"When was the last time you've spoken to her?"

"Last week," Leah answered.

Jenks ran a hand down his face and sighed once again, "I hate to sound morbid, but she's not going to last long."

"Most likely not."

"Stranger things have happened. We need to remain positive."

"Yes, you're right. But I've seen this happen before. Plenty of times and they had all ended badly. That's why they created the Witness Protection Program."

"She says she's fine," Jacob reminded the prosecutor.

Jenks scoffed. "And what do you think about _that_?"

Leah untangled her arms. "Mike's been released on bail."

Jenks nodded. "Sorio's last decision."

"I fear it may be a costly one," Leah admitted. "His lawyer is an asshole."

"Most defense lawyers are," Jenks said. "Well, at least, the private ones. I actually pity the public defenders."

* * *

"I forgot to ask you," Jenks said the following day, standing at the steps of the Criminal Court Building. He had just come out of a hearing regarding Javier's plea bargain. "How was the meeting with Melfi?"

Leah checked her surroundings; no one was paying her any mind. Not even the media. Jacob was chatting up with Martinez next to the food cart. "It was fine. Was told that I'm going to have to wait until Sam's return to even think about petitioning for a divorce."

Jenks gave the detective a sympathetic look. "I know it's not what you wanted. But that's how the law works. Especially since he's undercover."

Leah sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"If you need anything, you know who to call."

"Thanks."

* * *

"I'm having a birthday party at Quil's Friday night, which is two days from now. I know it's last minute, but... yeah," Jared announced, taking a break from to visit the trio right after their lunch break. "You guys better be there."

"Nice invite," Jacob said, briefing looking up at the cop before typing into Google's search bar. The trio was sifting through numerous social sites to see if they could pick up more information on Demetri and his associates. For a man who had been an integral member of the Volturi, he hadn't learned the art of laying _low_. "I'll be there."

"Embry?"

"You know it," Embry said, putting two thumbs up.

"Leah?"

"I guess I'll make an appearance," she said, grinning at Jared's mock affronted expression.

"And make sure you bring Seth, too," Jared said. "I wanna kick his ass again at darts."

Leah rolled her eyes, pulling up Gianna's Instagram page that shockingly hadn't been deleted or put on private. "You better not use that language around him."

"Isn't he going to the academy?"

Leah sighed as she reached for her candy bar. Jared didn't need to remind of that fact; it didn't even make sense. Seth had only applied two months ago. How on earth did he get an academy date already? It was like he was trying to stress out his older sister.

"You know, the fact that you're in the force doesn't help your plight," Jacob pointed out. "And it's not like you're blacklisted. Of course, Seth's going to be on the fast-track."

"Don't remind me," Leah grumbled, and then, "I'll make sure he's there."

Embry and Jared cheered and began discussing what shenanigans they were going to participate in later on.

"It's like they're in middle school," Leah remarked.

Jacob shook his head and mumbled, "And I get to deal with them almost every night, especially when there's a full moon. What did I do this deserve this _lovely_ honor?"

Leah chuckled.

* * *

"Has anyone ever told you that you got a nice laugh?"

"That's nice," Leah said, crossing her arms, hiding her embarrassment. And for the record, Sam had told her _once_. Some years back—At the corner of her eyes, she caught Seth aimlessly looking around the hallway, hoping that the tickets would materialize on the wooden floors. "But you need to focus on the task on hand. We have ten minutes."

"Leah, it's not a big deal."

Leah rolled her eyes. Stopping by Jacob's before heading to Quil's was not a part of the plan. They were supposed to pick Seth up from work and go. But then Jacob remembered he had forgotten Jared's gift— two tickets to the Bears' home opener. (Leah had just bought the cop a gift card to Giordano's). "You lost Jared's gift," she accused. "That's kinda a big deal."

"I didn't _lose_ it," Jacob maintained, lifting his living room couch without breaking a sweat. "It was simply misplaced." He stood up and huffed. "It's gotta be around here, somewhere.

"Do you want to check the kitchen?" Seth offered.

"Sure, man, thanks."

"No problem."

Jacob grinned at Leah when her brother left. "Aw, the Academy's gonna love him," he said.

Leah narrowed her eyes. "Shut it and look for those damn tickets," she ordered. "We're supposed to be there already."

Jacob didn't seem too concerned. "Who arrives at a party on time?"

His smirk dropped when he caught Leah's heated glare. "Okay, _alright_. Fine. I'll get to it." He looked around. "It's obviously not in here. Gotta check the room.

Leah rolled her eyes and followed Jacob into his bedroom. "Where do we want me to start?"

"Under the bed?"

Leah did so but found nothing but random papers and dust bunnies. "Not there," she announced, standing up. "Hey, do you want to do with your career?"

Jacob turned around. "Interesting question."

"You seem like a big-dreamer," Leah said. "Just curious."

"There was one time in my life when I wanted to become a superintendent. You know, be the top dog. Or, in my case, wolf."

Leah smiled.

"But then I've seen the light. I don't think I want to be bothered with politics and stuff." He shrugged. "Maybe one day, I'll try for the captainship or whatever. But for now, I'm perfectly content with being a detective. You?"

"Same," Leah said. "Any luck?"

Jacob shook his head.

"I'm surprised you can't sniff them out."

"Ah, _there's_ the wolf-joke I've been waiting for." Jacob cheered, looking as proud as ever, and then, "I can't really sniff out two pieces of tickets. Since they're, you know, made out of paper."

"Well, that's not too helpful, isn't it?"

"I guess not." Jacob shrugged. "Hey, if you don't mind, can you check that bottom drawer for them?"

"You sure I won't find anything incriminating in there?"

Jacob laughed. "I'm sure you won't."

* * *

Leah ended up finding the damn football tickets; they were under a pile of penal code books, right in Jacob's living room. "You need to improve your searching methods," she taunted. "I don't know how you can call yourself a detective."

Jacob took the tickets and gave Leah a fond smile. "Thanks, Leah. You're the best."

Seth chuckled.

"Enough with the sentiments." She snapped her fingers and pointed at the front door. "Let's get out of here before Jared sends Paul after us."

Jacob saluted her. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"What was your last partner like?"

Jacob didn't say anything until he reached the next red light. He glanced at Leah, puzzled. "What's up with the random questions?"

"I remember you were telling me something about him not having your back..." Leah said quietly as she adjusted the passenger seat to Jacob's personal car; she had been in here only a few times.

"There's nothing else to tell," Jacob replied, stiff. "Really."

"Okay—"

"He was dirty." Jacob ended up saying, breathing heavily as if he was trying to contain his anger. Leah wished she hadn't said anything. "Fucking traitor. Tried to throw my ass under the bus because of his bullshit. I mean, thank God, the captain didn't hate my guts and believed me when I said I had nothing to do with—"

 _Oh_.

Leah glanced behind her to find Seth holding his breath. Perhaps this wasn't the conversation to have with Seth in the backseat, but by the end of the year, he would probably find out. Everyone in the force knew about the incident.

"Well, he's in jail now," Leah said when she remembered the rumors. She hadn't really known Jacob before last December, but she had heard snippets of his drama, courtesy of Aisha and then corrected, "Prison," she corrected. "Serving, what is it, twenty-five to life?"

"It should've been life without parole, but I guess beggars can't be choosers."

"Leah let out a humorless laugh. "Guess we've lucked out when it comes to partners."

"I still think this one's working out," Jacob said, stopping his search to wink. He grinned when Leah rolled her eyes. "Third time's a charm."

"Seventh, in my case."

Jacob let out a laugh and then stopped when he realized that Leah wasn't joking. "Shit, really?"

"Oh, come on, you didn't know that?"

"I knew you had some partners. I didn't realize it was that many." He snorted. "Their loss."

* * *

Leah had never seen Quil's so crowded. She barely had space to walk further into the bar without bumping to someone. Besides Jared's party (apparently, he invited everyone he knew), there was a bachelorette party towards the back, which Paul had to talk the birthday boy out of crashing. A DJ was setting up in the left corner, behind the makeshift dancefloor that was already full of people. The bar, itself, was crowded from end to end, mostly full of those watching the Cubs and White Sox game from one of the mounted flat screen TV's.

"I can never get into baseball," Jacob admitted, looking up at the television. "The games are too damn long. Some of them don't even end until after midnight."

"It's nicer in person," Leah said, sliding into a booth closest to the pool tables. Jared and Embry had already dragged poor Seth into a card game. Horrible influences, those two were, but Leah didn't have to heart to interfere. "Ever watched it from top of a building?"

Jacob shook his head. "Nah."

"It's not crowded, and the temptation to shoot someone as you leave Cubs Stadium significantly decreases. You should check it out."

Jacob grinned. "I'll take your word for it," he said before ordering a round of beers and a plate of hot wings.

* * *

During the ride to Quil's, Jacob had vowed that he would lay low. That he wouldn't let the guys talk him into losing money over cards and pool balls. But that had gone out the window the moment Jared literally jumped on him after seeing the tickets.

"As long as you don't go over the legal limit," Leah said sternly, holding onto Jacob's arms before he could escape to his friends, family and family friends. "Got it?"

"Got it."

Leah decided to watch on, only to laugh at Paul getting his behind handed to him by her brother, who apparently developed an affinity for playing cards. But as soon as the third round of cards began, Leah bee-lined to the bar, leaving behind Aisha who was flirting quite heavily with a White Sox fan.

"The usual?" Quil asked her before shouting out some orders to the other bartenders. More people were pouring in.

Leah was happy for him. His decision to spruce up the place seemed to be paying off.

"No, cranberry juice and ginger ale," Leah said. She already had one beer, and that would be it. She wasn't going to embarrass herself like last time when she had gone to Jacob's apartment at midnight to given an apology that apparently wasn't necessary.

"Going cold turkey?"

"Sort of."

Leah forced money into Quil's hand when she received her drink.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Leah looked on her left. Rebecca Black-goodness, she couldn't remember the last time she saw Jacob's sister. Was it back in February? She smiled and gestured the stool next to her. "Go right ahead."

"Thanks," Rebecca said, returning the smile before demanded good-naturedly that Quil make her Long Island Ice Tea.

Rebecca's tolerance was definitely higher than hers, Leah decided, but she and Long Island Ice Tea were never a good mix. She would probably end up drunk-dialing Sam and Emily and telling them both to go fuck themselves. Numerous times before bursting into ugly tears.

It was not the night for this.

"Long time, no see."

"Yeah, well, Jacob hasn't been calling me in for medical emergencies lately," Rebecca said, feigning disappointment but her smirk gave her true feelings away. "Guess I'm not needed anywhere."

Leah snorted. "I'm sure that's not true."

Rebecca didn't deny it. She downed about a quarter of the Long Island Ice Tea before asking, quite seriously now, "So, how is it, working with my brother?"

Leah took a sip of her drink and said, quite honestly, "I have no complaints."

"Seriously?" Rebecca questioned, a bit surprised. For reasons, Leah didn't know. Maybe because it was Jacob, her brother, she was talking about. Leah, though she loved Seth dearly, still couldn't understand how his friends tolerated him at times. Rebecca snorted and shook her head. "His eating habits don't _gross_ you out?"

"I'm more jealous than anything," Leah admitted. She wished she could down all of that fat and grease and beer during her stress-eating binges and not worry about her weight. Or her arteries. "If I followed his diet, I'd be a whale."

Rebecca laughed. "Well, yeah. Me, too."

Leah took another sip, and, "I don't mean to pry, but are you...?"

"Like Jacob?" Rebecca finished and then shook her head. "I carry the gene, but it's dormant. It's dormant in our sister, Rachel, too. Jake's the one who was able to phase."

"I see..."

"It's kinda— _Oh, my god_."

Leah's head whipped around, and she froze. There Jacob was, with Embry and Jared, of course, on the dance floor with a mic in his hand, killing everyone's ears with their tone-deaf voices—she didn't know how she should react. "What the—?"

"Oh, my god..." Rebecca choked out, eyes watering up. She then quickly pulled her phone out and immediately started recording. " _Oh, my god_..."

It was karaoke night, and the cops decided to make fools of themselves with their enthusiastic rendition of "Spin Me Right Round." Embry was even moving his hips quite dramatically with to the beat. Paul, surprisingly, wasn't there with them, but he was right next to the dance floor laughing hysterically.

Thank goodness, the "show" wasn't crazy enough to be posted on social media.

They needed this. They all needed this after the insanity that was 2018. They needed to get their minds off of everything happening at work, even for a few hours.

"There has to be a bet going on," Leah concluded between chuckles. She gave Jacob two thumbs up when he looked her way. "You know how Embry is with threats."

Rebecca nodded before leaning over the bar and shouting out, "Yo, Quil, did you lace my brother's drink with some WB?"

Quil put up his hands in defense and shook his head. "Oh, come on, you know I only do that during _special_ occasions."

Leah finished her drink. "WB?"

"Wolfsbane," Rebecca clarified, sitting back down.

She recalled Embry mentioning something about that. She didn't know it could get wolves drunk, too. She just thought it was extremely and only lethal.

"Right."

"Hey, speaking about wolves," Rebecca said, voice serious. She put her phone away, promising to distribute it to her other sister, Rachel who was currently in Hawaii. "I'm sorry about last time."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Last time?"

"A few months back," Rebecca clarified, handed Quil some more money for the tip, despite his protests. "When you came over after Jacob decided to get shot. It's not that I... I don't know. It's just that... it's a sensitive subject."

Leah had honestly forgotten about Rebecca's reaction; she had been so focused on Jacob's wolf, and the fact that she had seen it with her own eyes. "I get it," she said, understanding. Rebecca was only being protective of her brother. _She got it_.

"It's fine."

"He's like Paul in a way," Rebecca carried on, glancing back at the guys who were arguing about some MMA match. "If it weren't for the attention and his job, Paul would be flaunting his wolf up and down Michigan Ave."

Leah looked behind her to see the singing trio finally getting off the floor. "I'm surprised he hasn't done it."

"Yeah… I don't want to put—" Rebecca stopped to gather her words. "Can you do me a favor?"

Leah nodded.

"Look out for him, will you?" Rebecca said earnestly, eyeing Leah like she wanted to trust the detective, but still had her reservations. "Sometimes I think Jake believes he's invincible because of what he is. I mean, last time, it was only a shot to the arm, but—"

Leah touched Rebecca's arm, squeezing it reassuringly. "I'll try my best."

Rebecca gave Leah a warm smile and breathed, "Thank you.

* * *

 **Have a wonderful New Year!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Twenty-Eight**

* * *

In retrospect, Leah shouldn't have been surprised.

It was only a matter of time.

For months, she and the Voldemort Taskforce had been monitoring numerous covens-turned-criminal-organizations. They already obtained countless warrants and evidence as well as multiple informants and arrests under their belt. They were planning to participate in the most anticipated-raid of the year, and from what Paul had said, the task force was not going to be disbanded anytime soon.

So _, of course_ , the Volturi was going to want some answers.

Leah just didn't want to be the _person_ to answer them.

She supposed it could've been worse. She wasn't tied to a chair, sitting under a basement light, begging for life. She was actually inside of a well-furnished conference room located on the second floor of an office building. Granted, the office building was in the middle of a nearly-vacant office park, but it honestly could have been worse.

She could try to leave. Escape. Call in the dogs. But deep inside, she knew that she couldn't simply leave without the blessing of the woman sitting across from her. She had to remain strong and devise a plan to get out of this situation in one piece.

She could do it.

"You have not called for backup," Jane commented, masking her amazement, as she tapped her fingers along the conference table. She had spent the last few minutes staring the detective down through her steely amber eyes, waiting for her to break. "Interesting."

"Should I have?" Leah asked smoothly.

Jane's gaze hardened, but Leah didn't falter under it. Being a seasoned detective, she could detect another's tenseness and fear from miles away. Jane, being a centuries-old vampire, could do so as well.

"It was wise that you didn't."

"I figured that," Leah replied, placing her hands on the table. She still had her gun, but she needed to make sure that Jane was assured that Leah wasn't going to use it. After all, it wasn't going to affect the vampire; the bullets inside the weapon weren't UV's.

"Do you know who I am?" Jane asked, eyes now focused on Leah's hands as if she had fully expected the detective to pull out her weapon.

"Who doesn't?"

"Good. Therefore, you know why I'm here."

"Actually, I don't. So, what do you want from me?"

"Andrew Sullivan."

Of course.

From the moment he had agreed to do business with Demetri, and by extent, the Volturi, the man had been a target. He had made a deal with the devil and with the police, and if hadn't been for him being under constant surveillance, Andrew Thomas Sullivan, married with children, would be dead.

"What about him?"

"He's gone. He is never _gone_. He knows the rules, and then suddenly, he's gone," Jane said, voice betraying nothing. But Leah could sense that she was frustrated; the vampire wouldn't have brought her here if she wasn't. I figured he had talked with your people after that very public arrest. Witness protection, I assume?"

"I can't tell you that."

Jane wasn't surprised by the answer. "I know. I thought I would ask." She leaned back against her chair and asked, calmly, "What brings you here to Napolitano's, Detective?"

Leah had to play it safe. "I'm just doing my job."

"So, am I."

Leah cleared her throat and sat up in her seat. "I'm not going to divulge anything," she vowed. "No matter who you are. You're not going to get anything from me."

"I see..."

That was an infuriating response from an increasingly infuriating woman. Jane was tough to read. Sure, Leah could detect some emotion, but nothing that would be entirely beneficial to the case. Jane wasn't going to tell her a damn thing for she was the one running the show. She made the decisions—

"Is this the moment when you torture and kill me?" Leah asked. She had seen this scenario before, usually from the outside looking in. She didn't know if Jane had planned to kill her, but she knew the vampire could do was. She never had an issue ending someone's life. Even cops.

Jane raised an eyebrow. Amusement seeped through her impassive exterior as if she was trying her best not to laugh at Leah's question.

Leah didn't appreciate it. "Well?"

"I must say," Jane started, eyeing the detective up and down. A smirk played on her lips. "You have a lot of courage for a human. My superiors would appreciate that."

Leah sassed against her better judgment, but she couldn't retreat now. She had presented herself to Jane as someone who refused to back down. "You didn't answer my question."

"Who taught you not to fear my kind?" Jane asked, sitting up in her chair. She leaned closer to the table with her hands folded on it. "You seem to be a knowledgeable individual. You know who I am, _what_ I am, and that I can kill you with a simple snap of my finger. And yet, here you are."

Perhaps, courage was all Leah had at this time, being at the mercy of such an infamous vampire.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I do not kill unless I am told to," Jane admitted. "And my superiors have not told me to do so."

Leah didn't know how she felt about that response. "And why is that?"

" It has been brought to my attention that the Denali case has been transferred to the FBI."

Leah blinked; Jane shouldn't have known that. Unless, "You have a source," she realized though there honestly wasn't a point in asking. Jane worked for the mob; the mob, even some wanted to admit it or not, always had someone in law enforcement. Especially in this city—Leah snorted and shook her head. "Of course, you fucking do."

Jane wasn't going to confirm or deny anything. She completely disregarded the accusation. "That was very wise of your captain," she said. "Transferring you to—"

"My captain would want nothing more than you rip your heads _off_."

"Your qualms are not with us."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "Bullshit."

"That is one thing I do not spew: _bullshit_." Jane retorted, amber eyes flashing red, but she quickly calmed down. "Your problems are with the Cullen's, Victoria and the Velasquez's...not us."

Leah suppressed the urge to snort. "Your people were involved in the destruction of Mike's."

"But no humans were killed during such event," Jane reminded the detective as if that would make a difference. Perhaps, it would, according to the Deal, but Leah refused to play by that dubiously legal contract's rules." "What happened at Mike's is none of your concern. Now, with the Cullen's and the Denali's and Victoria, humans were killed in such—"

"Demetri Karlov killed Jessica Stanley," Leah retorted, slamming a hang on the table, causing Jane to raise a curious eyebrow. Her _lack_ of overt action was killing Leah. "Demetri Karlov killed Gianna Castellano—"

Jane snorted. " _Gianna_..."

"Yeah, Gianna."

"Ah." Jane nodded. "That explains all of the questioning you did downstairs." She nodded again. "Gianna, how interesting? It seems that the Chicago Police Department still loves putting all of their resources into cases involving _simpletons_."

Leah didn't know if Gianna had been a "simpleton," but even if she were, it wouldn't matter. Gianna was a victim of a presumed murder within the city lines of Chicago. It was a CPD homicide case, simple as that.

"She still deserves justice."

"I guess you're right," Jane said. Despite her words, she was completely dismissing Leah's. "Well then," she carried on, twice tapping the table. "I suppose our conversation is finished."

"Good."

Leah looked behind her to see the guards backing off, indicating that she could stand up and was free to leave.

"I'd watch out if I were you," Jane advised. She wasn't trying to be funny—Leah doubted she had a funny or sarcastic bone in her boy. It was sound advice, laced with a threat. "I would hate to see something happen to you. Especially with your wise now wide open. It would have been such a waste in potential."

"Go to Hell."

Jane smiled.

* * *

"I have no words."

"Jacob—"

"I can't believe you did that."

Leah sighed.

Now, Jacob was just being dramatic. Leah was fine. She had been _fine_. Jane had let her leave without any ramifications. No one was trailing her; there wasn't some random car outside, full of people spying on her—Jacob had told her so. Sure, she was currently at Jacob's place, inside his living, on his couch with a cup of hot tea in her slightly trembling hands. But she was fine.

"I didn't think I was going to bump into Jane," Leah maintained, taking a sip of her tea. She wanted to dump a pound of sugar into it but then was reminded of her diet. "I just happened to be in the area. I just wanted to stop by and check it out."

"Yeah, at Napolitano's. What did you expect was going to happen?" Jacob almost shrieked, still pacing around his living with his hands in his hair, occasionally pulling on it. He was far more concerned than Leah was. "Jane basically lives there."

Well, Leah hadn't known _that_ then.

"All I wanted to do was see if I can get some information out of Gianna's coworkers," Leah explained. "That was all. She used to work there. Someone at Napolitano's had to something."

"Next time when you decide to pull a stunt like that, can you at least, let me know?"

"She didn't want me to call in backup."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to either. Did she—?"

Leah shook her head. "She said she wouldn't kill me because her bosses didn't command her to."

"Oh, my fucking—" Jacob brought a hand to his forehead and groaned. "Don't you _ever_ do that again."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Usually, you're absolutely right. But _not_ in this case." Jacob finally stopped moving around and asked, "Does she know about the raid?"

"I don't... know," Leah admitted. "I mean, she knew about Sullivan, but I'm sure she was able to find out through other mediums. It wasn't really a secret that Andre was going into hiding. She didn't ask anything about it. In fact, she seemed surprised, but only a second, when I told her that Demetri killed Gianna."

"We don't officially know that."

"I know," Leah said. "I was trying to get the point across."

Jacob ran a hand down his face. " _Jesus_."

Leah's gaze dropped. She didn't want to admit it, but she understood why Jacob was so concerned. Jane was lethal; despite her appearance, even the most hardened of criminals feared her. Mike feared her. The fact that Leah had the opportunity to sit on Jacob's couch _unscathed_ was a miracle.

"I—"

Leah wanted to apologize to Jacob for causing so much worry. It wasn't fair to him. It was Friday night; the man was supposed to be enjoying his night before spending the next couple of days not working. But here she was…

But here she was. She looked around the room before stopping at Jacob and sighed. It finally hit her; the reason why she had come straight to Jacob's from Napolitano's in Cicero. She was safe here because Jacob was _here_. Maybe underneath her nonchalant shell was fear.

The thought unnerved her, but she couldn't focus on it for too long. Not with Jacob resuming his frantic pacing, scratching at his arms to the point where blood was beginning to seep through the broken skin. She shot up from the couch and rushed to her partner—no, friend; what they had was past simple professional camaraderie.

"What's wrong?" she asked, holding out of her arms as she inched closer to him. She didn't know what to do; grabbing onto his arms was too risky, not to mention futile. Physically, he was much stronger than her; he could get out of her hold without breaking a sweat, maybe inadvertently injuring her in the process.

Jacob seemed too aggravated with his body, with his arms. Like he wanted to rip them _off_. "Nothing," he insisted unconvincingly through gritted teeth. He was still scratching. "I get this... it's nothing."

"It's obviously something," Leah retorted, gulping at the sight. "Do you need medicine or...?"

"I haven't phased in a while."

"Oh."

"Leah, I'm fine—" He stopped, groaning as he crouched over, hugging his torso. " _Get back._ "

"What—"

Leah took a few steps back, watching in amazement and fear as Jacob—she didn't know how to explain it— _changed_.

She could recall Jacob mentioning to her, sometime back, about the phasing being quick. So quick that one wouldn't even process it on time, but this _one_ seemed more tortured. Extremely painful—she didn't know what to do but watch as he transformed from a man to wolf, cringing along the way at the sound of rearranging bones.

She couldn't call 911; doing so would have made things so much worse. She could call Paul or Embry, but her phone was charging at the other side of the living. It was only about fifteen feet away, but at this moment, it could have been a mile.

Leah jumped back.

When it was over, Jacob didn't howl. He didn't make a move. He just stood there, staring at Leah through the most intense eyes she had ever seen. His entire body moved as he breathed heavily.

Leah was frozen in place. It took her a few moments to snap out of her shock—she couldn't be here alone. She didn't know how to help him or know if Jacob actually _needed_ help. She needed to call someone.

Jacob's eyes followed her every move, but he didn't take a step. Leah carefully went to the other side of the living room, picked up her phone, and quickly texted Embry— _Get your ass over Jacob's. Now_.

 _Be there in ten_.

Leah pocketed her phone and began to approach Jacob slowly. She had no idea what the fuck she was doing; this was uncharted territory. The last time she had seen Jacob in this form, the only time, had been back in February. And he had been far calmer than he was now.

For the next several minutes, Leah endured the most uncomfortable staring contest of her life.

But at least, she wasn't scared anymore. Just worried. Extremely worried.

She nearly jumped off the couch at the sound of the ringing doorbell. Taking one look at Jacob, who still wasn't moving, she rushed to the front door, peeped through the peephole, thanked every deity under the sun and opened.

"Embry, thank fuck."

Embry said his hell and looked behind Leah. His eyes widened. "What happened?"

"Um... he shifted abruptly."

"But _why_?"

Leah didn't have the energy to explain. "Get inside."

* * *

"I'm sorry about Friday," Leah told Jacob the following Monday morning. She hadn't spoken to him over the weekend, too afraid that she would make things worse. "I know I shouldn't have done that. I know I shouldn't have gone to Napolitano's alone—"

"No need to apologize, Leah," Jacob insisted, returning Leah's report. They occasionally read over each other's reports before submission to make sure that all of the facts were consistent. Paul wanted everything completed before lunchtime. "Shit happens."

"But I forced you to, you know, do that" Leah reminded him; she couldn't understand why the hell her partner was letting her off the hook. She had _caused_ him to phase. "What if someone had noticed? Like your neighbors? You could have been in big trouble."

Jacob wasn't too concerned about the prospect. "No one would have said anything."

"Bullshit."

"Honestly. Most of the tenants aren't, I guess you can call it, normal. Trust me, if anyone was going to call me in for noise, I'd been kicked out and plastered all of the front-page news years ago."

"I don't understand…"

"My landlord can be an unforgiving asshole sometimes, but he is sympathetic to the ploy of the supernatural," Jacob explained. "From what I heard, one of his kids turned into an actual werewolf, and... it's hard not being human in the city. With everyone living nearby."

"So, he brought an apartment building exclusively for the supernatural."

"Not _exclusively_."

Never in Leah's life had she heard about these kinds of buildings. It _did_ make sense, but still. And the fact that it was a well-kept secret was incredible. "How hasn't this leaked to the papers?" she asked. "Or social media?"

"We specialize in hiding ourselves," Jacob said. "And keeping our mouths shut."

"Well... I'm sorry about everything."

"I just didn't want anything to happen to you."

Leah closed her eyes and sighed. This man was going to drive her up the wall over his protectiveness. He was becoming just as bad as Sue. "I'm not made out of glass."

"Yeah, I know," Jacob said quietly. "But it still doesn't change a thing."

Leah wasn't going to delve into that. It was too early in the damn morning for any heart-to-hearts. She glanced down at her report, placed it aside, and asked quietly, "So, you phase when you're nervous?"

"Freaking out," Jacob corrected. "I'm usually in control of it."

"So, what happened Friday night?"

"Like I said, Leah: I don't want anything had to happen to you. You've been through enough."

* * *

"So, he basically phased because of you."

Leah hadn't told Embry a damn thing about her stunt. She supposed he must have extracted it out of Jacob. "It was an accident," she said. "I did something really stupid. He freaked out, and... yeah."

Despite Jacob's words, she still felt bad. She had managed to stress Jacob out to the point where he had been forced to phase.

Embry picked up a doughnut from the Dunkin Donut's box. He seemed a bit taken aback, stunned, confused, worried, concerned— looks that didn't look suit well on him. " _Oh, boy_ ," he said before he swallowed down a doughnut.

Leah didn't like how the cop said those words, but she brushed it aside to ask, "Does he do that often?" she accepted an old-fashioned doughnut from Embry. "I know he said he could rein it in but..."

Embry raised both eyebrows, and then, " _Oh, boy_."

Leah frowned. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Saying what? Oh. Oh, _no_ ," Embry stopped and turned red. He quickly shook it away and reached out for another doughnut. The treats were technically for everyone at the station, but Embry didn't seem to care. "It's nothing. Yeah, he doesn't do that often. Actually, I've never seen it happen. Well, what do you know...?"

Embry couldn't lie to save his life; he was clearly hiding something. But Leah wasn't going to press it. He had done her a huge favor by coming over Jacob's on Friday night.

* * *

Leah had received the news on Wednesday morning.

"Carlisle's dead."

She nearly dropped her coffee. "How do you know?"

"Victoria was gloating all about it this morning. She didn't... do anything, but apparently, the old man didn't come back from those gunshot wounds."

"Shit."

"Look, I don't wanna sound..." Riley trailed off, moving his hand in a circular motion as if doing so would provide him the right words. He didn't want to sound concerned, worried. Petrified. "The Cullen's are gonna blame us. They're gonna blame the Volturi, and they ain't going away quietly."

"So, what is your boss going to do?" Leah asked, checking out her surroundings. Carlisle's death had implications, not only because of the Dahlia case but because of the upcoming raid. It suddenly became a lot more personal for the Olympic coven.

It was a pleasant morning. The sun was out. The humidity was low. The air smelled fresh with birds chirping around, clear signs that the duo was outside of the bustling city. They were back on the bridge outside of Chicago. A couple of runners were running in the path below, but no one was paying them any mind, especially with their earphones on. A few cars were passing by on the distant road running parallel to the bridge, but none deemed suspicious. Despite all of this, meeting up with Riley in the early morning wasn't ideal, but none of his coworkers worked during these hours; the supernatural seemed to prefer conducting their affairs at night.

"She doesn't have much faith in Edward, who's now in charge," Riley admitted. His face contorted in a way that told the detective that he didn't share his boss' views. "She believes things will go on as planned."

"And you?"

Riley shrugged. "Does it matter?" he asked. "I'm just a newborn. I'm nothing but a bottom feeder in her eyes. My opinion doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Leah said honestly. "Your opinions and intel have helped me tremendously," and then, "Hey, if you're concerned about retaliation or anything, I can see if I can, you know, help you out."

Dishing out witness protection offers wasn't something Leah often did. But if she wasn't going to get Lauren on board, maybe she could try with Riley... although, deep inside, she didn't have much faith in her ability to convince him. The man seemed determined to sort this "Bree-issue" out himself.

"I ain't running away."

Leah sighed.

Just as she suspected.

"I hope they catch her," Riley said. "It'll be good for the crew. We gotta get someone with a better head. Someone who's not gonna go to war against you for looking at her the wrong way. Or kill off half of your newborn army for the hell of it."

"I'm assuming that Laurent's second in charge?"

Riley confirmed with a nod.

"What happens if both are taken out?" Leah asked. "Who's in charge then?"

"No one."

"Be careful, will you?"

Leah was confident that the young man, the young newborn, could manage on his own. He had lasted this long, but she had a feeling that everyone involved needed to watch their back. One of these days, Leah couldn't pinpoint when, someone was going to find out about their meetings... despite taking precautions, the secret would always come out.

But Riley didn't seem concerned. He dismissed Leah's word with a wave and said, feigning coolness, "Yeah, whatever," and then, "Catch you later."

* * *

By the time Leah returned to the station, everyone in the task force had learned of Carlisle's death. The only one who didn't seem to be fazed by the shocking news was Benjamin.

"It was only a matter of time," he told Paul, sitting between Embry and Leah with Jacob pacing back and forth behind them. "I told you guys that even if he survived, he wasn't going to be the same. Edward would still be in charge."

"You did," Embry confirmed, and then asked, "But what does this mean?"

"That there's a damn good chance that the Cullen's are going to want some answers during that meeting," Paul said, and then, " _Fuck_."

"But isn't that good?" Jacob asked. "We'll have everyone more or less in the same area. Arrest all their asses right then and there."

"He has a point," Benjamin added.

Paul put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, pensive. "Leah?"

"Yes, Paul."

"Let Jenks know about this," Paul ordered. "I'm sure he's going to be interested in this new development. Embry and Jacob, squeeze some more information out of Mike. He's working on a plea deal with the attorney's office. Remind him that if he doesn't give us what we want in 48 hours, he can kiss his freedom goodbye." His attention turned to Benjamin, "And you, talk to your guys and see if this raid is still going on. If we know about Carlisle, then I'm sure they do."

* * *

"He wants a trial."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I don't know _why_ he wants one," Jenks said. "He's looking at, at least, fifteen years, in prison with all of his priors, and I'm not even talking about once the feds get their hands on him. He's been a mob liaison for years; he's done."

"What about his lawyer, Shapiro? The man's a douchebag, but he knows his stuff. Surely, he doesn't think Mike's getting out of this unscathed."

"Usually in cases like these, people don't take a plea because they know— everyone will know—that they are a rat," Jenks explained. "The mob doesn't like rats. They tend to exterminate them."

"So, someone's pulling strings."

Jenks nodded. "His and Lauren's."

"And he's still out on bail."

"There's nothing we can do about that," Jenks said, disappointed as well. "Even with Judge Lawson now presiding over the case. Violation of the Eighth Amendment."

"Shit."

"Not all's lost, Leah," Jenks insisted, though he seemed to be directing that statement to himself. "I see things are going to get interesting in the upcoming weeks."

"Carlisle's dead."

"Yes, I heard."

"This has ramifications."

Jenks sighed. He reached out for his trusted cigar (technically, not allowed but no one ever complained). He offered one to Leah, she respectfully declined— she was banning all sorts of tobacco as well as alcohol. He lit the tobacco up, took one long, seemingly satisfying drag, and, "Edward Masen, the man who tried to bribe Dr. Swan into sabotaging the Dahlia's autopsy, is officially the big man of the family. Initially, I was bothered by this new development, but then after some thinking, I've realized that this gives us an opportunity.

Leah found that hard to believe, but then again, she wasn't a prosecutor. "Like what?"

"Carlisle's gone, which means that the family is under new management. At least, officially. Someone's not going to like the change, and that usually results in some friction."

"They seemed to be fine with Edward ever since Mike's."

"Yeah, but that arrangement was only supposed to be temporarily," Jenks pointed out. "Plus, if we take Edward down, which we most likely will during the raid, we remove the head of the Cullen Family, and they'll plunge into chaos."

"Not necessarily," Leah argued. "Someone can quickly take the rein until he's set free."

"No one else is really capable of keeping that family running," Jenks said. "Emmett's five seconds away from going into Alcatraz whether he talks or not. Jasper—he wouldn't do that to himself. The Denali's can try, but there will be a rebellion if Tanya dares to take the throne."

"But what about the wife?" Leah asked. "I've seen this happen plenty of times before. The patriarch is in prison for how many years, and the wife comes along and covers for him. Gets pointers from him during the prison visits... I know Esme's been playing the housewife role for decades, but she's also been around for decades. She can't be that oblivious, especially since she has Edward's ear."

"You're really pushing for Esme to be the mastermind."

Leah didn't want to admit it; she didn't want Jenks to see her as being short-sighted. But Esme—there was just something about that woman that _screamed_ instigator. "I'm just covering all the bases," she said. "If you haven't noticed, there's a horde of them."

"Look, once this whole raid-thing blows over, just give me probable cause, maybe some concrete evidence and I'll start with the indictments," Jenks said. "Just be careful, will you?"

"Always am."


	29. Chapter 29 Part 1

**Twenty-Nine (Part One)**

* * *

"There's been a change of venue," Paul announced to the Voldemort Taskforce on a Monday morning. It was August, the month when things were expected to go down, including the raid. "The meeting will no longer be taking place on the night of August 15th at the Union Stock Yards."

Everyone groaned.

The change was, of course, a last-minute one.

"According to our sources, the meeting will now be held on the following Sunday, August, 19th inside the freight tunnels," Paul continued, nodding along with the sounds of surprised curses and gasps. "And I don't know how the hell they manage to get access down there, but they did."

Completed in the early twentieth century, the Chicago freight tunnels were a vast network of tunnels located under downtown Chicago. They were designed to haul cargo, such as merchandise and coal, underneath the city to various buildings, including the City Hall and the Merchandise Mart and house telephone and telegram cables. The tunnels had been out of use since the late 1950s and had been completely closed off in 1992 following a massive flood.

Like Paul had alluded to, no one should have been able to secure a space for a meeting down there unless they went through City Hall and that was generally reserved for inspectors.

 _But the actual change does make sense_ , Leah realized. The stockyards were already too hot because of the slaughterhouse murders. Plus, it was mostly open land; many of the yards' buildings had been leveled throughout the years. At least in the tunnels, space was confined, and most importantly, it was underground.

* * *

"Well, there goes our extremely well-thought-out, comprehensive strategy," Jacob grumbled hours later, tossing the plans aside.

Leah was frustrated as well. There was a considerable difference between doing a raid above ground in an open area and _underground_ tunnels. Leah and the team had been tasked with surveillance and serving as a back-up if needed; the change made things complicated.

"We're gonna need more light," Embry said.

"No," Leah contested. "It'll attract too much attention. We could have gotten away with it at the Stockyards because of the street lights and the building lights, but tunnels are supposed to be dark."

"There has to be a light somewhere," Jacob said. "The city still inspects the tunnels."

"When's the next inspection?"

"Last week," Jacob said. "Paul had contacted the Mayor's Office about the change of plans. Hopefully, everything went well."

Leah looked across the room where Paul's office stood. The captain was inside, chatting with one of his sergeants. He wasn't currently in a terrible mood, so the call with the mayor couldn't have been _that_ bad.

She turned her attention to the discarded plans. Weeks of work, down the drain. It was a disappointment but not a rarity. Shit happens, and it was their responsibility to adapt to it.

When she reminded Jacob such the following evening, he responded with, grimacing at the new set of plans before handing them back to Leah. "I know it's not a big deal, but I don't like working in confined spaces."

They were at her place, for the first time in months, reviewing the new plans they had devised earlier with Embry's assistance. They were technically off the clock— as Embry had reminded them ever so eloquently at the end of their shift—but they were detectives. Leah insisted that her work wasn't done until she stopped thinking about it; and Jacob just went along for the ride, offering to buy dinner. Which, as usual, wasn't anything in the vicinity of salad.

The dinner choice was fine. This meet up was fine. It was the least stressed out Leah had ever been reviewing notes for an upcoming raid. Jacob was sitting at the small dining table across from her with a plate of hot wings and stuffed pizza from Giordano's between them.

She reached over for a slice of the mushroom-spinach filled goodness and took a bite. "Not many do," she remarked, taking another bite. She set the pizza aside and started skimming through the pages. The change in venue was inconvenient, but not impossible. Although they would be forty feet underground and inside actual tunnels, the entire network spanned for sixty miles. Sixty miles-worth of windy tunnels could give them an advantage. "We're gonna start at the basement of the Martin Building."

The Martin Building was an old commercial building that didn't have as much value as, for instance, Merchandise Mart or City Hall. They could hold operations down there without causing much fuss. Currently, its space was rented out by a coffee shop, a yoga studio, and a freelance online news company on the upper floors.

"The sub-basement," Jacob corrected. "A new addition when the tunnels were formed. The original basement wasn't deep enough."

"Ah, right."

Jacob swallowed down a piece of pizza before leaning back in his seat, rubbing his stomach. "That's some good pizza," he commented, and then sat back up. He took some time to look around at his surroundings; the "dining room" was technically the right section of the living feet away from the kitchen. "You're thinking about moving… when everything gets settled?"

Leah glanced up from the plans. "What makes you ask that?"

"It feels like you haven't been here in a while," Jacob said, eyebrows drawn together. He took one long whiff and exhaled. "I dunno; it feels, smell... stale."

Leah's eyes roamed around the room. It did feel impersonal. Like a hotel room, of some sort. Or an Airbnb. She had spent more nights at her mother's than here; a point where she had to decide to return to her apartment at least, three nights a week.

"Some days, it drives me up the wall, especially after a long shift. And then, ever since the Dahlia case and slaughterhouse murders..." she quietly admitted, slightly frowning. "I don't know; it's like I've been hearing voices in my head—" She stopped. "I'm not crazy."

Maybe she was. A little bit, but that wasn't a problem. Because everyone had a little crazy in them.

"We're all crazy, really..." Jacob pointed out, chuckling lightly, and then, more serious. "I know what you mean. The voices or maybe it's us overthinking things. We're detectives after all. All I know is that I've been itching to phase and go on more late-night run's, especially after last time..."

 _Last time_. Leah sighed as she turned to the next page. The incident might have been a couple of weeks old, but she still felt terrible about compelling Jacob to shift in the middle of his apartment.

She bit her lip. "Sorry about that."

Jacob let out a frustrated noise. "I should've kept my mouth shut..." he said under his breath, shaking his head, and then, "Stop apologizing."

"I _am_ sorry."

Jacob leaned back in his seat once again. "Are you always like this, apologizing every five seconds?"

"Only around you, it seems," Leah admitted quietly, staring down at the pages.

She could feel Jacob's eyes on her, but she refused to meet his.

* * *

"I heard from a source that you will be participating in some... action at work," Sue said nonchalantly one night as she cut up some vegetables for dinner. She didn't wait for a response. "And before you ask, yes, I still keep in touch with some of your father's colleagues."

Leah snorted and shook her head as she poured the proper amount of rice into the rice cooker— the best kitchen appliance in history, in her honest, humble opinion. Burnt rice, no more. "I'm a detective."

"Since when do you participate in _raids_?" Sue asked, "You investigate murders."

"I told you I was temporarily transferred to another unit."

"Whose purpose you still haven't told me."

"Oh, come on, mom, you know I can't tell you _everything_ ," Leah said, turning around to check on the pan-fried chicken on the shove. It was almost done.

"All I want to know if you'll be fine," Sue said, shrugging. "This family doesn't need another work-related death."

Leah froze and then looked away, not wanting to meet her mother's concerned eyes— She knew that Sue was referring to, and Leah didn't want to have another discussion about it. She never had.

"Look at you being pessimistic," Leah said, trying to lighten the conversation. "I'll be fine."

"You better."

* * *

The days leading up to the raid were relatively uneventful. Sure, work still had to be one, plans had yet to be finalized, but Paul made sure that nothing of note, no mass arrest, and whatnot, would happen until after the raid.

It made everyone feel better.

"It is bad that I haven't been this relaxed in months?" Jacob asked Leah before downing his beer and reaching over for more hot wings.

Leah nodded before washing down her food with lemon-water; she was sticking to diet plan, damn it. "Nothing to feel bad about," she said. "I'm in the same boat."

Oh, how much she missed lazy, drama-free nights.

It was Thursday night, an off day. Three days before the craziness would begin. Leah had invited Jacob to watch a football game at her apartment. It wasn't anything significant, just something she wanted to do to get her mind off of work. Jacob appreciated the gesture and had brought along hot wings, beer (and a chicken-less Caesar salad to appease Leah).

Leah would have invited the others, but Aisha was attending a family wedding, Martinez had to entertain his children while his wife worked late hours, and Embry was on a date.

The game playing on the television was only a preseason one, but the detectives didn't mind. Jacob was an avid Chicago Bears fan, and so was Leah—she had loved football all of her life, thanks to her father and his love for the Seattle Seahawks; he might have had lived in Chicago for most of his life, but his heart had always belonged to the state of Washington.

Leah's smile was bittersweet as she flashed back to her childhood when Harry would teach her the mechanics of the sport, whether they had been watching the game at home or in person at Soldier Field.

"You think they're gonna make it this year?" Jacob asked, reaching for his beer.

"I'm going to go a playoff game when they make it to the post-season," Leah declared. "Ticket prices, be damned."

"That's the spirit."

Leah grinned.

* * *

"I'd like to remind everyone that tonight will not be the time to play a goddamn action hero," Paul reminded everyone in a booming voice. He had his game-face on. Everyone pretty much did. "Listen to the commands. Follow the goddamn rules, and for the love of everything holy, don't fuck this up."

"Or hit bystanders," Leah whispered to Jacob.

"Especially that," Jacob whispered back. "But I think we're gonna be okay since, you know, we're gonna be below ground."

Paul's advice, about not playing hero, was sound, not that everyone would actually listen to it. She looked around; everyone was adequately dressed, adequately prepared with their weapons and bullet-proof vests. Some were carrying rifles; some donned masks. It was like she was in an action movie.

"Oh, this is much worse," Martinez said, fulfilling Leah's request for a piece of gum. He was one of the only people dressed in street clothes. He wasn't going to be in the action; a sprained ankle caused by a tumble down the stairs had put an end to that.

"I appreciate your optimism," Jacob said, giving the other detective the finger.

Martinez let out a short laugh. "Just being realistic. Don't pay attention to the movies. They aren't real, especially the action ones. They make shooting a gun with one hand _so_ easy."

"Point," Leah said before tossing the gum into her mouth. After a few chews, she asked, "You sure you're going to be right over here?"

"Not my first rodeo," Martinez said. "And anyway, someone has to hold the fort while you guys hunt down the bad guys. Don't worry, Aisha will keep me on my toes."

Leah gave a half-smile. She looked past Martinez where Aisha was standing, reviewing some plans with another cop. She would be staying behind as well. "A blessing in disguise," she had told Leah.

"I have a bad feeling about all of this," Embry admitted, nervously re-adjusting the straps to his vest. "I mean, we're going underground. Underground. Forty-feet underground. Fuck, we're gonna be deeper than the L trains."

Leah stopped chewing and exchanged curious looks with Martinez and Jacob. It wasn't like Embry, expressing something like this. He was usually the one jumping into trouble, much to his supervisor's chagrin. "I'll be fine," she ended up reassuring him. "After all, we're not on the front lines."

"We're not," Jacob confirmed. "No, we're not."

"All I know that you guys need do this city a favor, all of you," Martinez said, attempting to lighten the mood. "Try not to get killed."

 _Try not to get killed_.

Leah was sure that Martinez had said it as a joke. It was like the "break the leg" saying before heading off to a raid or a mass arrest. Usually, she would have brushed it off and return with a snarky comment. But now, all she could do was deliver a half-smile, reserved, and apprehensive.

* * *

Jacob pulled Leah aside about twenty minutes before the task force was scheduled to depart. Not that anyone was paying them any mind; the focus was solely on the preparation for the upcoming raid.

"Here," he said, pulling out an insulated box from his pants pocket and handed it to Leah; it contained six UV's. "Just in case," he told her.

Leah nodded and thanked Jacob. She loaded the magazine with the UV's, replacing her standard bullets. "Think we're going to use them?" she asked.

Or any bullets, for that matter. The task force had been advised not to use their guns unless necessary. Though effective, bullets traveling through a barrel at rapid speed created sound. Loud sounds. Loud bangs that would echo off the tunnel walls. It attracted attention and therefore, tossed the whole notion of a surprise attack out the window.

"I don't know..." Jacob admitted. "Don't worry about a thing, though. We'll be fine. You'll be fine."

"Embry suggests otherwise," Leah pointed out. "Which is completely unlike him."

"He's never done anything like this before," Jacob explained. "Remember, he hadn't received much action until becoming Sam's unofficial partner."

* * *

Leah and the team were stationed inside the basement of the Martin Building. It had been previously used as a speakeasy, a short-lived brothel and a scene of an unremarkable mob movie, Jacob told the others as they inspected the area. The basement hadn't been in use for years, and it certainly smelled and looked like it. Leah was worried that every step she took increased her chances of falling through the wooden floor.

"There's only Earth underneath," Embry reminded her, before checking with Jacob, "Right?"

"You never know."

Leah rolled her eyes and continued to follow Jacob down to the sub-basement of the building. The elevator, leading to the deepest point of the structure, still worked after all these years.

The sub-basement was anti-climactic; just a space full of old machines, an abandoned freight cart still on the eroding tracks. The floor near the elevator was dry, increasing becoming wet as the detectives approached the tracks. Looking down at the dark tunnel, Leah could tell by the little light she had was that the area was slightly flooded with brown water.

Deciding there was nothing else to see, the detectives set up their post. As promised, they weren't near the action. The confined and dark spaces of the windy tunnels wouldn't allow them to. Paul had ordered them to stand guard at the entrance.

Leah pulled out a camera from her backpack and set it up between the top of an abandoned machine and the concrete wall. She wouldn't be taking photos with this device, only monitoring what the smaller previously-installed cameras picked up throughout the tunnels, in particular, the assailant meeting place.

* * *

"Looks like almost everyone is here…" Jacob announced sometime later, leaning against an old metal appliance. Occasionally, he would look down the tunnel, leading away from the basement of the Martin Building. Just in case, but so far, it was quiet.

The targets were congregating in an area when a few tunnels intercepted. All seemed to be at ease, taking time to greet each other and reminisce about old times. No one had a frown; no one was reaching for their weapons. The only ones who were on guard were a group of soldiers, guarding the opening of each tunnel.

Leah learned from Jacob and the Embry that they only picked up the scents of the Volturi and Victoria's gang; the Cullen's, the Velazquez cartel and their allies weren't underground. The ATF and their friends were nowhere near the gathering, which was expected. Benjamin and Paul had mentioned a few days back that their people would make an appearance at the right time.

For the next twenty minutes, the vampires only discussed matters, using a language strongly resembling Latin. Occasionally someone would gesture the cargo around them, but besides that, nothing was going on. Leah was bored but determined. Jacob was the same, but Embry was starting to get antsy.

"I thought we were gonna participate in some action-pack raid. You know, with guns blazing and shit," Embry complained, pacing around the basement, pulling on his jacket sleeves, impatient. "If all we were gonna do is surveillance, we could've stayed above ground."

Leah wanted to remind the cop that _he_ nearly had a nervous breakdown back at Paul's station about this very raid—which he had seemingly forgotten about. She also wanted to remind Embry, once again, that they were also serving as a back-up, but Jacob beat her to the punch, "Just keep your eye and ear out for any movement," he ordered. "And wait for Paul's instructions."

"I'm just saying..."

Leah shook her head, but Embry _did_ have a point about the action. She couldn't understand why the rest of the task force were sitting ducks inside the tunnels. Based on their conversations, the mobsters weren't expecting a damn thing. But she wasn't the one making the rules. Paul had ordered them to keep watch, and damn it, that was what they were going to do. She kept her eyes on cameras as Embry stood guard near the basement entrance and Jacob, the entrance to the tunnel.

Nothing was out of the ordinary; everything the mobsters were discussing was everything Leah had known about. And—

"Hey, guys, I think we got something," Leah quietly announced. She had to remember that she couldn't yell because sound traveled and one of those damn supernatural beings was going to pick up on her voice and follow it. When Jacob and Embry reached her side, she explained, pointing at the screen. "Evidence."

On the screen, a series of cargo appeared onto to the screen, dragged along rusty tracks by some soldiers. After some words exchanged, the bosses ordered their minions to open the pallets, revealing a stockpile of human blood, and a dozen barrels of ultra-violets and pure silver bullets.

Marcus of the Volturi mentioned that there were more where that came from, sitting along the tracks in the distance.

The cops all gasped at the sight, realizing that Benjamin hadn't been bullshitting with them after all. Leah could imagine Paul practically _preening_ at the sight. "That's a lot of evidence. I can't believe they've managed to bring everything down here," Leah said. "How many years you think those will bring?"

"Gotta be, at least, twenty-five to life," Jacob said. "That's a shit ton of illegal weapons. That gotta be worth five hundred large on the market."

"I'm leaning more to seven," Embry remarked. "What do you think, Leah?"

"Maybe six?"

"C'mon, Leah, that's cheating," Embry whined, and then, "Wanna bet?"

"Only you would ask for a bet during a raid," Leah mumbled, good-naturedly though. She wished Jenks could be here; he would be crying tears of joy right now. "Well, _fuck_ ," she said, watching Victoria inspect the packets of blood. Her partner-in-crime, Laurent, was doing the same.

"Benjamin was telling the truth, after all."

"Look, I can't—" Embry stopped and deeply inhaled. His eyes widened as he asked Jacob, cautious. "You smell that?"

"Children of the Moon…" Jacob finished, eyes flashing. "Those fuckers brought _them_ along?"

Leah blinked and looked down at the device. Long behold, there they were. The children of the moon, five of them, struggling against their chains. Never seeing beasts before this moment, she shuddered at the sight, hoping she would never have to encounter them.

"You know, there's a movie about this," Embry said. He was still on high-alert, but he wasn't as alarmed as Jacob. Or Leah. "It's called Underworld."

Jacob growled. "Not the time, Embry."

"No, seriously," Embry insisted a little louder than he should have. He paused, covering his mouth, apologetic. "Sorry, but watch the third one. The vampires, they made the lycans slaves and shit. With chains and all. The wolves were the protectors, and then one decided to fall in love with the vampire leader's daughter, and then everything went to hell..."

Jacob blinked, looking visibly confused about the point of the conversation. Leah didn't blame him.

"What goes on in that brain of yours?" she asked, leaning closer to the camera. Victoria was now inspecting the blood packets of blood. "Seriously."

"Hey, I know what I'm talking about," Embry argued and then froze. " _Did you hear that_?"

Jacob pulled out his gun.

Leah quickly checked out the scene on the camera and gasped. They had gotten one—Santiago, one of the Volturi's hitmen—in the neck. The vampire immediately went and was deteriorating fast. Actually decomposing. An enhanced ultraviolet must have hit him.

"Shit, someone brought along a sniper?" Embry asked. "Wait, is that a part of the plan?"

"No." Jacob gritted out, and then, "They got anyone?"

Leah's eyes remained on the camera despite the many urgent commands and comments overheard on the radio. They weren't the only ones who heard the shots. "Got one right in the neck. My guess, a UV," she said as he watched the group of vampires pull out their weapons, aiming at one another. "This can't be us. We wanted a raid, not a shootout."

Jacob nodded in agreement. Raids usually involved popping out of nowhere and arresting numerous surprised people, not killing them from far away.

"Cullen's?" Embry offered.

"Shit, they may just be," Jacob said. "Retaliation."

"For what happened at Mike's," Leah whispered, looking down at the scene again. No one was checking on Santiago as Sulpicia started shouting out orders, and the soldiers proceeded to shoot in the direction that the bullet had seemingly come from. The detectives didn't pay much attention to the shooting; they were more interested in determining when the Cullen's and their allies would finally come out of hiding.

They didn't have to wait long.

"Why the hell would they come out now?" Embry asked incredulously. "If they were always going to do that, they should have never used a sniper."

The only ones speaking were Maria, Sulpicia and Victoria, and it wasn't in English. Or even Latin, this time around. But it didn't matter what they were saying, though; from the way they looked at each other and pointed at the others and the goods with their guns, it was evident that they weren't there to talk.

"Maybe they had nothing to do with that?" Leah offered.

The shouting increased. Victoria was the most hostile, followed by Felix, who looked like he wanted to attack but was restraining himself from doing so. Jasper wasn't far from Maria and Irina, but he didn't seem to have any intention of getting involved in the argument. He just stood there with his hands crossed and a deep frown on his face.

More threats and insults were tossed around. Irina, of the Denali's, had her gun aimed at Sulpicia and then at Alec, who, as usual, was standing by his sister, both silent. No one was alarmed by Irina's threats; Sulpicia even called her bluff, which wasn't appreciated by the other woman. She waved her gun erratically while Jasper tried, and failed, to calm her down. Sulpicia motioned for Felix to handle Irina himself, but before he could attack her, she pulled the trigger.

The detectives jumped at the sound of the gunshot, echoing through the tunnels. Leah watched, stunned, as Alec slumped to the ground, Jane rushing his side.

Felix charged at Irina. Jasper intercepted him. The rest of the Cullen alliance attacked the Volturi and Victoria's army, and as expected, not before long, the interrupted meeting turned into a massive shootout.

" _Fuck_!" Jacob ripped his radio from his shoulder strapped and immediately starting shouting over it. Embry did the same.

Leah froze, tightly holding onto the camera. None of the bullets were even heading their way, but that didn't calm her nerves. After eventually snapping out of her trance, she pulled out her gun, checked once again to see if it was fully loaded and held it at his side. "Where the fuck is the ATF?"

Jacob winced at the sound of increasing gunfire.

Paul ordered everyone to stay put.

The Cullen's and the Denali's were here.

Leah lifted the camera for everyone to see. They noticed the horde of agents at the moment they arrived, but the vampires were too occupied with trying to kill each other or escape to realize that the feds were lurking around. By the time the agents revealed themselves, their guns blazing and badges flashing, the crowd had started to disperse. When they noticed the newcomers, some were able to flee without detection.

" _ATF! Drop the guns! Hands up_!"

No dropped their weapons, not even with the gun's aimed that. Leah was worried that the vampires would attack, but then Jasper signaled the Cullen's and the Denali's to lower their arms. Sulpicia did the same for the Volturi, followed by Victoria who literally flung her gun against the tunnel wall.

Twenty-three vampires. That was how many people Leah counted who were left behind and subjected to arrest. The agents closed in around them when it was apparent that the mobsters were waving a white flag and read them their rights— _You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney_ —before arresting each and every one of them.

No one resisted, save for Irina, who, in a fit of rage, head-butted one of the agents behind her before getting slammed to the ground and forcibly put in handcuffs. No one else put up a fight; they probably figured out that talking someone out of a charged them with numerous violent and trafficking crimes in court would be easier than being on the run for killing federal agents.

It was too easy; the detectives thought as they watched the agents lead everyone into the back of the van.

Far too easy.


	30. Chapter 29 Part 2

**Twenty-Nine (Part Two)**

* * *

"This is a trap."

Leah didn't want to think about it.

Jacob gave Embry an exasperated look and sighed, but he didn't counter the cop's declaration as he helped everyone get their equipment together. He handed Leah a couple of more UV's and said, "We gotta get out of here."

Leah nodded.

"This is a trap," Embry repeated, shaking his head. He didn't want to leave, but Leah knew he would end up following orders just like everyone else. "Twenty-three people, giving up? Just like that? _Vampires_. This doesn't sound right."

Leah had to agree, though she prayed that Embry was just paranoid. According to the cameras, there wasn't any movement save for the agents and the other task force members moving in. She dropped the small-enough camera into the inside pocket of her rain jacket. "Jacob's right. We need to move in and help out."

Embry threw up his hands in defeat.

"Maybe those leeches finally saw the light," Jacob threw in with a shrug. It wasn't a convincing statement, but Leah appreciated the effort. "Maybe they realize that surrendering would be in their best interests. I don't know…. Stranger things have happened."

"But Irina turned herself in," Embry stressed. " _Irina_. And Jasper—doesn't that seem suspect?"

"It does," Leah answered for Jacob. "But we have orders. We have to remain optimistic."

"Cautiously optimistic," Jacob added. Now, come on," Jacob said, checking his gun. "We're going in. Leah, you're in the middle. Embry, you're in the back."

"Got it," Leah nodded. This wasn't the time to be questioning anything. They had received a message from Paul (via the feds) to be on the move. The feds were going to need assistance because the vampires weren't going to leave the tunnels quietly. Everyone was closing on the covens.

"You ready?"

Leah removed her gun from her holster to check her. All chambers stocked with ultra-violets. She had some regular bullets, but they would remain inside the side pockets of her cargo pants. She had replaced them early with all UV's, figuring that her targets would most likely be vampires. And if not, the bullets could definitely cause damage to the human body.

"Yeah."

* * *

When she stepped inside the tunnel for the first time, Leah immediately recalled Embry's complaints from a couple of weeks back about claustrophobic, not having anywhere to go. They had some space, they could run back or march on forward, but what would they find? Who or rather, what, would they bump into? According to Jacob and Embry, the children of the moon were here and so were the vampires. Both of which were extremely fast.

Leah paid close attention to Jacob, picking up on his cues. He was on guard, but not stiff. Not worried. It gave Leah some assurance that not everything was going to hell. At least, not yet.

"I thought you'd be more excited by the change of events," Jacob told Embry, gaze remaining straight ahead. There was nothing but barely lit, rounded concrete walls before him. "If this is indeed a trap, that'll be more action for you."

Leah snorted.

"I didn't mean it like _that_ ," Embry retorted before mumbling to himself under his breath. Leah didn't catch what he said but judging from Jacob's random light scoff, he must have.

Leah glanced behind her. "Beggars can't be choosers," she reminded Embry.

Embry rolled his eyes.

Jacob scoffed again.

"Oh, come on, Leah," Embry whined. "Whose side are you on? By the way, have I told you guys how much I hated these goddamn tunnels?"

"Only every other hour for the past two weeks," Jacob said. Leah could picture him rolling his eyes. "I think we've gotten the point by now."

Leah gave Embry a look of reassurance as she continued followed Jacob, keeping an eye out for any surprises. She would occasionally glance over her shoulder to check on Embry now and then.

The cop's expression turned more serious, almost matching Jacob's, but with an additional tinge of irritation. Leah concluded it was because of his enhanced sense of smell. His nose would scrunch up every now and then.

"Picking up anything?" she whispered to him, causing Jacob to pause and looked back. She motioned him to keep on going. Nothing of note was happening.

Embry's expression didn't change. "Sometimes, I wish my nose was as weak as yours..."

Leah nodded and pressed on. It wasn't an insult. She couldn't imagine what he and Jacob were picking up. To her, the tunnels, spanning sixty miles, smelled musty caused by the standing water beneath her feet. "How do you deal with it?"

"You get used to it," Jacob answered for Embry.

"Not willingly," Embry added. "They were definitely lying when they said there was no shit flowing down here."

"We're walking through underground tunnels that had been sealed off for years," Jacob said, "What the hell did you expect?"

"At least, it's not too hot," Leah said, glancing down at the map Embry had given her. From the looks of it, they were close to the intersection. She heard noises—shots and loud thumps.

"At least, it's not too hot," Jacob repeated, and then stopped, causing Leah to lose her footing as she tried not to crash into him. "Sorry—yo, Embry, you're catching that?"

"Those assholes have _perfect_ timing," Embry grumbled.

"Yeah," Jacob mumbled and then asked, "Leah, picked up anything on the camera?"

Leah looked down at the device. "Just shouting and more shouting. Weapons, drawn."

"Knew this was gonna happened," Embry muttered, staring at Jacob.

Nothing else was said; Leah could only look between the two men as they engaged in a conversation with their own eyes. She could pick up that they were both alarmed; Embry's humor dissipated. Jacob's hand ghosted along his gun.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We have company," Jacob said. "Hey, what do you know? We're here."

Leah looked ahead and released a relieved sigh. They were here, only feet from the intersection where a horde of people, both law enforcement and their new arrestees, just going through the motions of an arrest. No one paid them much mind except for Paul, standing at the other side, waving.

"About damn time," Embry said.

Leah nodded and then paused. Her eyes roamed around the area and then again. She pulled on Jacob's arms, forbidding him to leave. When he turned around, confused, she asked, gulping, looking around for the third time before resting her eyes on Jacob. "Where are they? The wolves? The children of the moon?"

* * *

The children had been left unsupervised, free from their chains and out of sight. And no one had seemed to notice during the commotion caused by the first shots and the subsequent mass arrests, not even the mobsters. Unless, they did, and Embry was right all along. Perhaps releasing the children was a part of their escape plan—

The problem was, as everyone had soon found out, much to their distress that children weren't loyal to anyone but themselves, Leah realized as she remained crouched down behind a metal pallet, full of UV's, with Jacob by her side. She was fighting after every instinct to shield her ringing ears. She wasn't used to be around so gunfire… but she couldn't freeze now.

She wasn't _freezing_. She wasn't in shock, just accessing her surroundings. Nothing but chaos, pure pandemonium. Bullets flying everywhere; people on both sides dropping. Most of those arrested were free and shooting back—not to the fault of the arresting agents _. Everything had gone to shit so quickly;_ they didn't have time to re-fasten the cuffs.

The children of the moon were putting up a good fight; they were no longer playing idling, defending themselves against the bullets. They were _huge_. Massive. Larger than Jacob's wolf and their fangs were longer, sharper. Dripping with saliva and blood, snarling at whoever dared to cross them. Launching themselves at anyone they pleased.

Leah had never been so terrified in her life. She didn't move or run away like some of the others did, just to get mauled down by the wolves- both humans and vampires were on edge, not knowing what to do.

That had been the reason by the children had been in chains, Leah realized, looking up at Jacob to see if he had a plan. She had nothing. He seemingly had nothing; he checked around. He wanted to phase; she could see the desire in his eyes, but rationality was holding him back. Not many people on their side knew about _him_ ; not many would understand.

Leah yelped when another bullet hit the edge of the pallet, too close of comfort. Jacob took a hot second to look down at her before kneeling himself to reload.

He rose before coming back down. He stared at Leah, who was taking a peak from behind the pallet, trying to aim, trying to make a good shot. But everything was too fast. The vampires, the wolves—only two were in action while the others had dispersed before the first shot rang.

"Not used to this?" Jacob asked, heavily breathing.

Leah shook her head and gulped. "Better at one-on-one."

Jacob nodded, mute. Conflicted.

"I'm fine," Leah said, glancing down at her weapon. She knew how to use a gun. She was trained in it, could hit targets. "Don't want to hold you back."

Jacob shook his head. "You're not."

Leah muttered thanks as Jacob stood back up. She managed to get a few shots in; one bullet hit the leg of one of Victoria's goons, causing the man to yelp in agony with his hand still on the trigger, with his semi-auto still dispensing bullets as he collapsed onto the ground.

She was making her next move before getting pushed aside, just slightly. She looked to her left, ready to speak her mind but then stopped when she realized that it was only another member of the task force.

Stephen? _Steve_? She had only spoken to young cop a couple of times; more pleasantries than anything. He had never bothered him, and she had never bothered him. Jacob wasn't too alarmed. They shared a look, both apprehensive yet determined, before nodding and getting back to business.

But then at the corner of her eye, while Jacob and Steve were exchanging gunfire with the mobsters while rushing to the other side, Leah picked up on an escapee. A man whose description she couldn't catch running in the opposite direction. Away from the cops, behind the cops, rushing away in top speed.

 _Don't play a hero_. Paul's words played in her mind on repeat, but she couldn't just let the man go. Only moments before, he had shot a couple of agents, who, from her vantage point, were both in serious condition. He had been arrested, evident by the broken handcuffs dangling from his wrist; he couldn't run _free_.

Without thinking or giving Jacob a heads up, Leah shot up from her stance and took off running.

* * *

It was stupid. _Reckless_. It went against her police training, her common sense, and any lesson she learned in thriller movies, but she found herself quickly backing away until she began to sprint as well. She needed to apprehend the man, she didn't know exactly why, but she couldn't let him get away.

She caught up to him eventually and ordered him to freeze. As expected, the man didn't freeze; he turned around, facing Leah, with a gun still in his hand.

Leah's eyes narrowed, trying to focus on the figure in front of her, not an easy feat giving the lack of light. Her gun was trained on him, ready to shoot if he stepped out of line. "Drop the gun!" she demanded.

He did not. Instead, he opened his mouth wide, bearing his fangs.

 _Vampire_ , Leah realized, gulping. She tightened her hold around the handle of her gun. "Drop the gun!" she demanded again.

This time, he did. But before Leah could do anything else, he charged at her.

Leah pulled the trigger without much thought but missed. She got the wind knocked out of her, being tossed to the ground with a vampire on top of her. She kicked him off and shut up quickly before bracing a kick; she struck the butt of her gun across the man's face, causing the weapon to tumble out of her hand.

Before she could retrieve it, the man launched at her once again.

Leah might not have been the best shot, but she had her fair share of experience in hand-to-hand combat. She never tried to overpower her opponent, considering that most were bigger and stronger than her, but instead aimed to attack their weak-points—which in this man's case, was his neck.

The man might have been strong and a vampire, but Leah had fought stronger and tougher _humans_. _Newborn_ crossed her mind as she stood up, only to be brought down by another kick. This time, she didn't fall on the ground, only against the wall before dogging a punch.

And then, with as much power as she could muster, she kicked the man, right in the mid-section. Satisfied as the man wheezed out a painful sound before leaning over—vampire or not. A kick to the nuts would always do the trick.

Leah scurried away, picking up her gun along the way, and before the vampire could recover, she pulled the trigger.

The result wasn't what she wanted, but it was what she expected. Her mind wasn't focused on making the fatal shot to the head or the chest. She had just pulled the trigger on instinct, knowing that it wasn't easy to bring a vampire down.

The bullet hit his thigh; it wouldn't be a quick death, but it would be a death. A shot to the thigh was dangerous because it housed a major artery. The artery was ruptured; he was going to bleed to death.

He must have known it. He didn't reach for his gun a few feet away; both hands were on the wound. It painful; he was wheezing, biting down his screams, eyes wide. Color shifting from red to black back to red and then... hazel.

Leah breathed heavily as she watched on. She could have run off; she should off, but she found the sight in front of her fascinating. He was dying, returning to his human form in the process.

She didn't remove her eyes from the man as he tried, in vain, to stop the light from traveling along his body. Nor when he finally passed.

Leah looked down the tunnel. No one was around. Not Jacob, not Embry. Not anyone from the task force. Or the feds were in sight. It finally hit her that she was now alone.

 _Fuck_ , she cursed under her breath. This was what happened when she made rash decisions. This was what happened when common sense didn't force her to stay with the crowd. And now, she was alone with sixty miles of tunnels to search through.

She took a deep breath; she didn't have time to wallow. She had to follow the action, the gunshots and shouts were loud another. Jacob and Embry were probably there.

Leah looked at the fallen soldier one last time before walking away.

A few feet down, Leah stopped and turned right back around. Leah approached the vampire and knelt next to him, purposely avoiding looking at his face. This wasn't her first kill, unfortunately. The last time had been out of self-defense as well. She wished it hadn't happened. Both times.

She was searching for something useful, like UV's; he must have had some. All the vampires did, but she couldn't find anything.

 _Fuck_.

Leah checked her gun. _Fuck_. All the UV's were gone. She quickly reloaded her weapon with the back up's. She cursed her decision to forget to take the spare UVs off her desk. But there wasn't anything she could do know but hope that she didn't run into another vampire.

* * *

With her weapon held out in front of her, Leah continued on her way. She kept her eyes and ears for any movement, but the dimming lights obstructed her vision, and her hearing still hadn't fully recovered from the earlier gunfight.

All she wanted was to recognize something, anything—

Leah nearly fainted at the sight of the familiar sub-basement and rushed towards it. She was so glad to see the area; now, she knew where she was. She could remember the route Jacob had taken—she took out her phone and checked the time. 12:03 am—almost an hour prior.

She would only stay around for a few moments, only to gather herself and her breath. She could hear the faint sounds of gunfire from all directions—the action was still going on. Being idle wasn't an option. Just one minute, she vowed.

She was a fucking idiot.

She should have never left. Vampire-escapee, be damned.

Leah braced herself against a discarded metal desk and deeply breathed. She reached for the radio attached right below her shoulder and tried to check in, but it didn't work. _Strange_. Cursing, she retrieved her phone from her phone. No signal. Of course, it wouldn't be; she was forty below ground. About twenty feet below the train tracks.

She took out the camera from the inside of her jacket and inspected it. Great, just as she expected. The screen was damaged. Huffing, she dropped on it the table. It wasn't the end of the world; the tape might still be salvageable.

Her head turned sharply to the left, and pulled out her gun, holding it in front of her. And then, she saw him. Another man. Vampire, based on his blood-red eyes. Dressed in a black suit- a member of the Volturi.

" _Freeze_!" she commanded, but the man didn't freeze. He approached her, too quickly for Leah to move.

The man's gun was aimed at her. Point-blank range. No questions asked. She pulled her trigger, hitting him on the shoulder. The man winced and then recovered.

It was those fucking standard metal bullets.

She pulled the trigger again.

The man didn't falter. His arm was still raised. His expression was still emotionless—

Shots rang out.

Leah collapsed onto the ground.

Her gun dropped along the way. She didn't reach out for the useless weapon as she remained on the cold ground, barely registering the sounds of the footsteps, heading away, not _towards_ her.

As she remained on the ground, trying to catch her breath, everything came to light. She had been shot, one in the abdomen and once in her shoulder, beyond the confines of her bulletproof vest.

She attempted to stand up but immediately fell back down. She moved to her side, painful, but effective. And then there it was the blood. The blood on her hands. The blood underneath her—she slid along the ground, trying to lift her body along the way. She would only rise for a moment, up an inch, before dropping.

Leah had to get out of here. Reaching for her radio was too painful. Reaching for her phone was impossible. She continued to slide on, until, biting her lip, she lifted herself again.

Pain, that was all she felt. She couldn't stand up, but moving her knees was just as effective. Fifteen more feet, she told herself. Fifteen more feet and she would behind the door. Into a clearing— she could smell the damp, city air.

Leah would get there eventually. She would be able to clearway, leading to outside. She leaned over, coughing up blood before finally gaining enough energy to maneuver around so that she could sit up against the wall.

Panting heavily, she tried to make herself comfortable.

She looked down. Two shots to the body. Fatal, she couldn't tell, but she was bleeding heavily.

She didn't care about the shot to her shoulder; it was the one right under the hem of her vest that concerned her. That had demanded her undivided attention. She pressed down on the wound again, and lowly groaned at the pain.

She needed a distraction—she checked her surroundings. Nothing but stone walls and patches of green lodged where the wall met the ground. The only light came from several feet away, through the door entrance and from above. It was a full moon tonight.

Leah looked up, hoping for an opening. Maybe someone would walk past and notice her, but then she quickly squashed that idea. It was after midnight; nothing would happen for another few hours if she were lucky. Her hopes were further dashed at the blurred sight of the metal grates.

 _Fuck_. So, she wasn't at street-level, after all. Only about twenty-feet beneath behind the building. Where the walls stood high; there was no other way to get out besides climbing up the rickety ladder, leaning against the wall and pushing up the metal ceiling.

Leah wasn't entirely sure how injured she was; she dared to remove her hands. Nothing but blood on her hands. Blood slowly changing the color of her shirt. She was losing a lot of blood.

She quickly pressed down on the wound again, and lowly groaned at the pain. She tried to use her other arm to fetch the radio, but the pain wouldn't alarm her to.

Resigned, she dropped her arm.

This was it, she decided, closing her eyes. This was where she would have her last breath. Outside of the Martin building, on a warm and damp August night. Several from where the action continued.

She could faintly hear the commotion over the radio and on the other side, the other tunnels: the bullets, the shouting, the roars and the faint sirens from above. The rustling of footsteps, the sound of cars rushing along the wet road from above.

" _Where the hell_ —"

Leah opened her eyes, and there Jacob was, standing several feet away from her, eyes widened, breathing heavily, and drenched in blood—It must have been bad inside; she could hear the increasing sound of sirens. Had to be several police cars and some ambulance in the area already.

Maybe, he would pick her up and take her up to street level where she would be rushed to the hospital— but he didn't. He didn't even use the radio to notify everyone that yet _another_ cop was down.

And then it hit her, he wasn't doing any of those things because there was no point.

He was by her side before she could fully realize it, dropping to his knees, shrugging off his jacket before pressing down on the wound, hard. Leah yelped in pain. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he kept on saying. He was panicking, perhaps more than Leah.

She wanted to reach out to him, but couldn't. She wanted to say something, but could barely speak—she didn't know what she wanted to say. She froze when she felt his bloody hands on her cheeks.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

Leah didn't hesitate. "Y-yes."

For a moment, he looked at his partner, straight in the eyes, searching for another answer. Leah wouldn't give him one; there wasn't a reason to. Satisfied, he looked down at the wound again and then looked back up. "I'd never do anything to hurt you," he vowed quietly, cupping Leah's face with his bloody, trembling hands. "I swear to fucking God I'd never do anything to hurt you."

His voice, it held _so_ much conviction... She believed him.

She believed _in_ him.

Leah closed her eyes again, hands still pressed against her bottom wound. Thinking about everything, everyone—Jacob, her mother, Seth, Aisha. Emily… Harry; she'd see him again.

She felt Jacob's presence, still hovering over her, mumbling under his breath, touching her arms, her shoulders, her neck, wrapping something around her mouth... but it wouldn't matter. Just give it some time, and she'd be gone— her mind drifted away. _Think happy thoughts_ , she thought. Think about seeing her father again. And no more pain, physical or emotion—

Leah tensed at the feeling of strong hands tight around her arms. She struggled but couldn't, opened her eyes, but didn't see anything. Smell anything, taste anything, just the loss of feeling in her arms, only to be replaced by the sharp pain bearing down on her neck.

It wasn't quick. It wouldn't let up it.

The fabric around her mouth muffled her screams.

She struggled against Jacob's hold.

And then, everything stopped.


	31. Chapter 30

**Thirty**

* * *

 _Leah wasn't afraid of the tunnels. They weren't ideal, being forty feet below ground, far beneath the tracks of the underground L trains. But as long as she was with the team, fully locked and loaded, there was nothing she should worry about. There was strength in numbers, even if most of the team were humans._

 _But now, she wasn't with the team. Hadn't been for a good ten minutes. Each step she took, she inched farther and farther away from safety._

 _But she couldn't stop._

 _She was getting closer._

 _She could feel it._

 _And Paul was going to kill her for pulling her latest stunt, but for now, all Leah was focused on hunting down that vampire. The one that got away._

 _She took a deep breath as she carefully stepped further and further into the barely-lit tunnels. Her gun was held out in front of her, fully loaded with the much-needed UV's. Her focus was mainly on the windy path ahead of her, but she occasionally checked behind her. Her ears listened out for any other movements; it would be easy to pick up another's footsteps, she surmised. The tunnels, even after all these years, were flooded with several inches of brown water—_

 _She didn't see or hear them coming. All of out of nowhere, surrounding her, closing in, hissing and baring their fangs. Their eyes flashed red, pupils dilating._

 _She pulled the trigger._

 _It didn't matter._

 _They were all on her, dragging her down into the wet ground, sharpened claws bearing down. She struggled against their hold, screaming, shouting for help, all in vain as the fangs pierced through her skin. Her head was pushed back into the water, baring her neck._

 _She tensed up when a pair of fangs breached the area where the neck and shoulder met. Rendered utterly helpless as the blood drained from her body with suck. And then another joined on the opposite side._

 _And then another, until they all were feasting on her lifeless body…_

* * *

Leah's eyes snapped open as she gasped for air, reaching out for anything to grab, but it wasn't the gun she was hoping for. Just sheets.

She froze.

She wasn't inside the dark tunnels with vampires on her, extracting the life out of her through their fangs. No, she was inside a bright room, body dry, eyes stinging from the harsh sun rays, peering through the half-closed window shades.

She wasn't dead.

 _Fuck_.

Disorientated, Leah groaned, rolling onto her side. She reached out for a pillow and pressed it against her face, but it didn't help. Her head was pounding. Her mouth was as sandpaper-dry. Her body ached all over, feeling like it had been stabbed with a thousand knives or hit by a high-speed train. Or both.

She tried to sit up, but her muscles revolted, forcing her to slam right back down.

A bed. She was on a bed. Staring up at the ceiling, hopeless, her eyes widened, and she gasped upon the realization that she wasn't in _her_ bed. She wasn't in _her_ bedroom. She wasn't even in her own apartment.

Fear-induced adrenaline forced her out of bed.

She regretted it immediately.

Holding on whatever was sturdy enough to keep her steady, Leah staggered around the room. She recognized the area, but she didn't. She was too distracted by the feeling of being overheated, by the smell—the most intense smell to ever hit her nose. All wrapped on her; she couldn't distinguish it—flowers, cleaning products, grime from the city streets, car exhausts, perfume, people. _Scents_.

And the noise; her ears picked up on her heavy breathing, the breathing of two people several feet from beyond the room door, standing around in another room. She could hear the heavy breathing from the apartment above her, beside her, outside. Everything blaring in her ears—

What the fuck was going on?

Leah winced as her ears twitched at the sound of a crash from the apartment below. It sounded like china dishes. A few plates.

She leaned over the table, using her arms to keep her steady as she stared at her reflection through the mirror. It was obviously _her_ , but then again, it wasn't. She was staring at two people. Beings, whatever, not one. It was her face, alright. Her eyes. Her hair…

She blinked. The events of last night flashed through her mind. The chase. The shootout. _Those tunnels_. The gunshots. Jacob standing above her, terrified, ripping off his coat to help stop the bleeding. Her trying to catch her breaths, slowly slipping away, knowing and accepting her end was near.

But—

She lifted her shirt, looked down, and froze. It was gone. No blood. No wound. Nothing but clear skin. Smooth more than ever without a trace of a bullet breaking it.

For a moment, she was convinced she had been dreaming. About everything. The vampires. Dying. The raid in the tunnels. Maybe last night hadn't happened at all? Maybe the shootout with the vampires was the figment of her imagination. Maybe getting shot had less to do with reality and more about her anxiety of dying on the job.

But it had felt _so_ real. She could remember the pain; the pain was unbearable. Worse than any she had experienced prior. She remembered the blood all over her stomach and her hands. She remembered losing conscious and seeing Jacob through blurred eyes—

Leah sharply turned around at the sound of shuffling noises coming from the other side of the bedroom door. On instinct, she rushed to the other side of the bed, ignoring her aches, and grabbed the gun off the small bedside table.

It pained her to hold up the weapon, but she fought through it, placing a finger on the trigger, just in case. She narrowed her eyes, ready to make a move as the door slowly opened.

Oh.

It was just _him_.

Jacob immediately shot his hands up. "Leah..." he whispered, taking a step back.

He wasn't afraid of her, Leah quickly realized. He was concerned, worried with a sliver of surprise, but fear. Not even with the gun aimed at him.

She let the gun slip out of her hands, completely disregarding the chances of a misfire. But nothing happened; it must have been empty, she realized.

Leah stared at Jacob; she didn't know what to say to him. She wanted answers, sure. Even demanded it, but the words couldn't form in her mind.

"Leah…"

Her eyes darted around the round the room, alarmed, confused. Jacob was approaching Leah slowly with an arm stretched out, anticipating her collapse. She did feel like falling; her muscles were failing on her. The pain in her head jumped a ten-fold. Everything became blurred, her sight, her hearing.

She could barely register Jacob calling out her name before blacking out.

* * *

Leah woke up again.

She was no longer on the floor, but on the same bed she had woken up from hours before. Jacob was sitting in a chair beside the bed, with a coffee in one hand and his phone the other. He was wearing a general black suit with his badge on the waist and his holster on the other side- so, it was a weekday. A workday.

She whispered out his name, causing him almost to drop his

phone. If Leah were in a better state, she would have laughed. But now, all she wanted to reach out to him and… she didn't know…pull him closer to her or punch him.

It was an uneasy feeling.

And the way Jacob was looking down at her didn't help. He was relieved yet cautious. He didn't say anything to her as he placed his phone aside, and she didn't know what to say to him.

Leah was supposed to be dead.

She had accepted that reality, though begrudgingly. Not for one moment after leaving that basement, did she think she was going to make it to the hospital. But here she was.

She had so many questions but didn't know how to ask them.

"Later."

"For what?" Leah breathed out.

"For questions," Jacob said. "I'll explain everything. I promise."

"What is—" Embry stopped, suddenly appearing in the doorway. He looked between Jacob and Leah and sighed. He carefully placed the plate on the table next to the door and walked further inside, guarded. "Oh, good. You're up."

Leah slightly lifted her head to see Embry entering approaching the bedroom, keeping a wary eye out for any sudden movements and gently placed the plate on the small bedside table. He shared a glance with Jacob before looking at her. He was concerned, but not as much as Jacob—no, Jacob's worrying was overbearing. Nothing Leah had felt before.

"What am I doing here?" she demanded, looking between the two men. They were… she couldn't describe it, but neither wanted to answer her question. Or maybe Embry did, but he was waiting for Jacob to take the lead.

"Resting," Jacob said.

Leah narrowed her eyes. He was… telling the truth. Somehow, she could figure that out, but he was invasive. As if he was worried about how she reacted. "Was it a dream?" she asked slowly.

Jacob sighed, resigned, and shook his head.

"I got shot."

Jacob cleared his throat. "Twice."

Leah tilted her head on the pillow. She was exhausted but wasn't as in much pain as before. She could move her hand above her lower torso without wincing. "But there's nothing..."

Jacob's eyes followed Leah's hand. "You got bit."

"By whom?"

"Me."

Embry gulped.

"Why?"

"You weren't going to make it to the hospital," Jacob said, feigning apology, but it didn't reach his eyes; he didn't have any regrets for his actions. "I had no other choice."

That was a lie. _Technically_. Jacob didn't have to bite Leah. But maybe in his mind, the thought of _not_ biting her couldn't compute—it was an interesting revelation, Leah thought. Not about his actions, but the fact that she could sense his emotions. She had always been good at reading the man—but then again, Jacob had always been known for wearing his heart on his sleeve—but not like _this_. It was as if she could read his mind, but not his thoughts. Just the feeling behind them.

Leah sat up in the bed, ignoring her sore muscles and Embry's way. He was standing on the side, awkward, not knowing when it would be the best time to speak up. He didn't want to say the wrong thing.

"How do you feel?" Jacob asked, reaching his hand out to, what Leah supposed, place on her forehead. But then he retracted and made a noise in his throat.

Leah didn't know what that was supposed to mean.

"What's the temp?" Embry asked.

Jacob nodded and retrieved a thermometer from the small bedside table. Leah allowed him to place it on her tongue, closing her mouth. He took it out when it beeped and read out, "One hundred and eight." He wasn't concerned. "Not bad."

Not bad? Leah nearly shot out of her bed, but Jacob held her back. "Take me to the hospital!" she demanded.

Jacob shook his head.

"I have a high fever!"

She blacked out again.

* * *

 _"How long has she been out?"_

The female's voice was unrecognizable.

Leah's eyes slowly opened as she heard Jacob let out a tired sigh. She could practically picture him running a hand through his short hair and say, " _In and out every few hours_."

 _"So, normal?"_

 _"Normal."_

 _"Has she phased?"_

 _"New moon's not until the end of the month."_

 _"That doesn't promise anything."_

 _"Yeah… I know."_

* * *

"Are you my babysitter now?"

When she woke up (again) sometime back, Jacob was gone. _Work_ , Embry had told her. But Jacob had promised that he would be back. It wasn't a lofty promise; this _was_ his apartment, and unlike Leah, he spent most of his nights at the place where he paid rent. But she appreciated the gesture.

Embry ended up staying behind.

Tired of laying down and feeling sorry for herself, Leah migrated from the bedroom (Jacob's room, she realized), into a shower because goodness, and then into the living room wearing a fresh set of clothes dropped off by Sue, the saint. She was now on the couch with Embry, sipping on some much-needed hot tea.

"Someone has to make sure you're okay. Don't worry. Paul's somehow justifying this as police work, so I'm still getting paid," Embry said, wiggling his eyebrows, and then, "TV?"

"Yes, I need something mindless in my life right now."

"Sure thing." Embry turned onto the Bravo channel. Below Deck was on; it wasn't as mindless as the other reality shows on Leah's list, but it was enough to keep her mind off of everything. "My mom likes this show," the cop remarked.

"Really?" Leah sat up further on the couch, watching on as the yacht captain handed out the tips to his crew. She wondered what it would be like, working on a yacht: serving people, getting the ship ready to sail, traveling to some of the most beautiful areas in the world. It might be less stressful than her current job… but she couldn't see herself being in another line of work. She was a cop; she was born to be a cop.

"Oh, yeah."

Leah nodded, and then, "So, what happens now?"

She was still in Jacob's apartment. The man, who had left for work a few hours back hadn't mentioned anything about staying and leaving. But Embry was here, keeping an eye on her, so she supposed she was supposed to stay put.

"You rest."

Leah frowned. She was never the resting type. After a while, she would start to become antsy. Staying here, watching TV while doing nothing else didn't register. "But work—"

"You have to rest," Embry said more forcibly. A weird tone coming from the usually easy-going guy. "Don't worry about work. At the rate things are going, we're not doing much running around anytime soon."

Leah sighed. "That bad?"

"It's pretty bad," Embry confirmed. "Thankfully for our favorite captain, he hadn't orchestrated this mess."

"But what about Benjamin?"

From what she gathered, the raid was Benjamin's idea.

"Haven't seen or heard from him," Embry said. "The ATF whisked him away, but from what I heard from Aisha, he's not in trouble or anything. It was a raid featuring vampires—of course, things would go down… Paul's not too happy with him."

"Oh, I can only imagine," Leah said. "I mean, it's not Benjamin's fault…"

"And the raid wasn't a complete failure. We got some people in custody and seized tons of cargo. So, at least, we have that."

"At least, we have that…"

"Hungry?"

" _Yes_."

* * *

"I went to the butcher yesterday, figured you were going to want something fresh when you got up," Embry said some time as he emerged from the kitchen. "But obviously, it was kinda hard eating when you're in and out of consciousness.

It wasn't until Embry placed a plate full of meat in front of her did she realize what he was talking about. Leah stared down at the plate, blinked, confused. "I don't need meat," she reminded him, appreciating the gesture but still. "Strictly pescatarian."

Embry was a bit frustrated, but he was understanding. For a moment, Leah thought he was going to force feed her himself, but that wouldn't be him. "Yeah…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, you're gonna have to get over that aversion. We can't exactly survive on fish…"

"I'd like to try."

"Hey, you do you," Embry replied, shrugging.

He didn't have much faith in Leah's vow.

"That's not comforting."

"I'm just being honest," Embry said, and then, "Try it. If you can't stomach it after everything, we'll… try to find an alternative."

But from the way Embry sounded, he didn't seem to believe there was another alternative—Leah sighed. Her hunger hadn't subsided. She couldn't help but feel that the food-gods (or whatever) were laughing at her as Embry insisted that she downed that horrible, disgusting— _desirable_ piece of meat.

It came out of nowhere. The craving. The meat she was supposed to be pushing away was suddenly in her hands, inching closer and closer into her mouth until she virtually devoured it. One piece after the other.

She looked up at Embry jaw slacked, not knowing what to do or say next. She could feel a drop of blood at the side of her mouth and instantly licked it off. Moaning... goodness, it tasted _so_ good.

Embry didn't say anything as he took the empty plate from Leah. He placed it aside and bent down to fetch some water. Leah's mouth watered at the sight—she wanted to down it all.

Leah snatched the gallon of water out of Embry's hands and downed half of it in a few gulps. Finished, she placed it side, giving Embry an apologetic look (he didn't mind). Her appetite was going haywire; never in her life had she been this hungry or thirsty.

"I need a drink," she said.

Embry nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Leah took a deep breath. "How badly did last night turn out?"

She remembered some of the events. The beginning, the shootout, the children of the moon. Her being a dumbass and running off, getting shot. But she was sure that wasn't all that had happened. As she bled against the stone wall, the action was still happening down in the tunnels.

Embry blinked—confused, a bit put off. "Last night?" he replied, and then his mouth formed into an "O" as a realization dawned on him. "Oh no, you mean a few _nights_ ago."

It was now Leah's turn to blink. She thought the man was joking—he could be a jokester, at the worst possible times—but then realized that he was dead serious. "A few nights?"

"Yeah, the raid. That's what you're talking about, right?" Embry said. "That happened Sunday night. It's now Tuesday."

Leah's eyes grew wide. "I was out cold for three days?"

This wasn't normal. She shouldn't be going in and out of conscious. She needed to go to the hospital, especially with her high fever. Maybe that was why she was blacking out; she was dangerously overheated. She had gotten bit by a damn shapeshifter—but everyone was acting like it was _normal_.

"Technically two and a half," Embry corrected, trying to be amusing, but it fell flat. "I mean, it's normal… I guess. There are a lot of changes going on… but you were fine. Relatively speaking. You were breathing, alright. Your mom came around a few times, to make sure Jacob wasn't bullshitting when he promised that you'd be fine. Um, Kim—oh, I don't think you've ever met her—well, she's a vet, and she's been checking on your vitals. Considering everything, you're in pretty good shape—"

"What happened during the raid?"

Embry sighed. "It could've ended better…"

"Like St. Patrick's?"

"In a way, yeah," Embry admitted, but then, "No one died this time. Somehow. I mean, a bunch of people are seriously injured; some in critical conduction. I think, fifteen people… and then, there's you."

Leah's gaze dropped to her lap. "I should've died."

"Yeah, but you didn't," Embry said. "You're one of us now."

* * *

When Jacob returned later that day, he wasn't alone. There, standing right next to him, was no other but Sue Clearwater. Leah's mom was concerned, a little petrified, maybe. But underneath that, she could sense her mother's anger and frustration with a sliver of acceptance. Sue had always been worried about her family's involvement in law enforcement; he had started with Harry, and it had passed down to her children.

"My baby…"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"There's nothing to apologize about," Sue said. "Life happens. I'm just glad that you're still with us."

When Sue disappeared into the kitchen moments later, declaring how she was going to make a pot of tea and warm up some good, Leah asked, "You told her?"

"Didn't have much of a choice," Jacob said sheepishly, adjusting her pillow. "You two are similar in many ways."

"She's fine about it?"

"She knows more than she had let on," Jacob said, not annoyed but pleasantly surprised. Leah had to get used to sensing emotions off the bat. There was no examination needed, no prying, not even a look. She just _knew_.

And it was scaring her.

* * *

"I know this sounds… crazy," Leah started, cupping the hot mug with both hands, staring down at her third cup of tea, long after Sue had left. "But, for some reason, I feel like I can read your and Embry's mind. I mean, I can't _hear_ the words, but I can feel your emotions. Intent." She leaned forward. "Tell me I'm not fucking losing my mind."

Jacob shook his head. "You're not."

* * *

On day three, while walking along the shores of Lake Michigan, Embry told Leah that Paul wanted to kill Benjamin. Leah doubted the captain meant it. But then again, he might have.

Leah kicked some sand and snorted. "To no one's surprise," she said. "But he didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't his fault that everything went to shit."

"Oh, you're right. But you know how Paul is. Always the dramatic one."

"Where is Benjamin anyway?"

"ATF whisked him away," Embry said, attention only breaking as he checked out a rather attractive woman jogging past him. "Haven't seen or heard from him. But I know he's not dead."

Leah rolled her eyes at the ogling. "That's a relief."

"He did ask about you."

"Who, Benjamin?"

"Yeah, but Jacob wouldn't tell him anything. Well, the truth."

Leah respected that. She knew how much keeping things on the low meant for Jacob—when the time came along, she would tell the agent. Maybe she didn't have to. He was a vampire after all, and from what Leah had seen, a vampire could detect the supernatural as well. "Is Paul in trouble? Dead people are never good."

"They weren't his responsibility," Embry pointed out. "And it wasn't his raid. He'll be stuck in meetings until the end of time, but as far as he knew, he's still in charge of Voldemort." He scoffed. "Can you imagine anyone getting that job and not losing their shit?"

Leah shook her head.

* * *

Leah wasn't allowed to return to work until the week after next.

She tried to fight it, insisted that she would be fine—she wasn't in the goddamn hospital, for goodness' sake— and this wasn't the time to take off. But Paul wasn't hearing it. And Jacob, that traitor, didn't stick up for her.

Leah wanted to be mad at her partner, but couldn't.

* * *

"Ten _business_ days, Leah."

"Oh, come on, Paul," Leah whined, something she didn't often do, but she was desperate. There were only so many reality shows and walks on the lakeshore she could take. "You can't order that. You're not even my supervisor."

Which was technically true.

"Until this shit storm is over, I am," Paul said. "Ten days, ain't gonna kill you."

"Paul-"

"And then after that, if you wanna spend all your time chasing around those annoying behind assholes, be my guest."

"Thank you, _Paul_."

* * *

Leah woke up the next day feeling like her muscles were going to stage a revolt—she didn't understand why she was so sore. She literally hadn't done _shit_ for days.

She had thought about swallowing down some prescription-grade pain killers, tough it out and head to work. But before Jacob or Paul could yell at her, Sue had caught sight of her daughter and demanded that she slowed the Hell down.

To avoid enduring yet another Sue Clearwater-lecture, Leah crawled back into bed.

Her body was happy with that decision and the decision to down a plate full of hamburger patties.

* * *

"I thought becoming a shapeshifter makes you stronger?" Leah complained to Jacob sometime later. "I haven't felt this weak since _after_ my first fitness exam at the goddamn academy. Mind you, I was no my period that day; my ovaries declared _war_ on me."

"Okay, first, TMI. Second, give it some time," Jacob insisted. "Your body just has to adjust to everything."

"This isn't helping."

"Hey, you're no longer blacking out, right?"

"Right."

"Then, you'll be fine."

Leah grumbled at the response before checking a phone; she had received a text. The moment she looked at the screen, she laughed; her first genuine laugh in days. The text was from Seth, just a grumpy cat meme at her insistence that no, despite being bedridden at her partner's house, he could not eat all of her precious pretzels.

She showed it to Jacob.

He chuckled.

"That boy," Leah said, shaking her head fondly as she texted him a reminder that he did have a physical exam coming up and therefore, should lay off the carbs.

He responded with a "groan".

"When does he take the test?"

"Next month."

Leah had recently given up trying to convince Seth to choose another line of work. Despite his general cherub personality, he could be just as stubborn as the rest of the Clearwater's.

"This whole episode hasn't scared him off?"

"Unfortunately, no," Leah mumbled, rolling her eyes. "He vowed not to be involved in homicide or any of Paul's gangs."

"Smart man."

 _Smarter than me_ , Leah thought to herself, but would never admit out loud. Especially in front of Seth; he'd never let it down.

"Speak of Paul's gangs," Leah said. "How was work?"

"Work," Jacob replied; his expression was far from enthused. "Been writing reports for the past few days."

"That's all you've been doing?"

"Thanks to the raid debacle, that's _all_ we're doing."

Paperwork was, and would always be, a bitch.

"Anyone in trouble?"

Jacob shook his head. "Not from us. And as far as I know, Benjamin's still undercover."

"Oh good, his cover wasn't blown," Leah said. She was worried about that. Benjamin's a good guy. "Embry says that Paul's mad at him."

Jacob waved dismissively. "You know how Paul is."

"So, is everything on a standstill now?"

"Officially, yes." 'Some of the higher up's are going to stop by next week- don't worry, you'll be cleared to work by then- and talk to Paul about it."

"Can you hear the conversation through closed doors?"

"Yes, we can."

* * *

"I wanna say that I'm surprised by the turn of events, but then I'd only be lying..."

Leah snorted. She was glad to see Paul's face this morning on day four, walking through Jacob's door, tossing aside his set of keys. He was bearing gifts of coffee and breakfast.

"How're you feeling?" Paul asked, joining Leah at the kitchen table.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Leah replied before thanking the captain for the much-needed cup of coffee, and then, admitted, "Like shit."

Paul nodded. "Sounds about right." He placed the back of his hand on Leah's forehead. "Well, you have our body temperature."

Paul was trying to appear relaxed, but it certainly didn't reach his eyes. He wasn't Paul at this moment, just an exhausted shell of himself who had been dragged through hell and back. Not physically, he looked fine but mentally and emotionally drained.

Leah could only image the blow-back from the raid. It wasn't a failure, but it wasn't a success. People got away. People got hurt; some died.

"You look like shit," she told him.

Paul froze, blinked, a bit confused, and then let out a hearty laugh. "Thanks, Leah, I needed that."

Leah hadn't meant to say it as a joke; it was just an honest assessment. But she was glad that it took the captain out of his stupor, even if it was only for a short while. "But seriously, you do... How bad is it?"

"People say it could've been worse."

"And you?"

Yesterday afternoon, Jacob had told her that Paul had submitted his resignation letter. And just as her partner had predicted it, the higher powers didn't accept it. It had taken them about an hour to talk the captain off of the ledge, reminding him (and being truly sincere about it) that, more or less: shit happens.

Leah honestly couldn't think of another person who would take over Paul's role. The man probably couldn't either, and that was why he had decided to stick it out.

Paul shrugged. "I guess it could've been worse." He snorted and then let out a dragged out, tired sigh. It was bad, awful. "I keep telling myself that it could've been worse," he said, adding a shrug. "No one died. Thank you for not adding to that statistic…"

"Don't mention it," Leah muttered into her cup. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know. The rational side of me knows. But then again, we can't all be rational all the time."

Leah nodded. She knew that for sure. "I'm sorry for playing the hero after you explicitly told everyone not to."

Paul wasn't upset with her; he was relieved that she was alive but felt resigned about the whole situation. Leah could only imagine; the raid might not have been Paul's, but he was still in charge of people.

"You pulled a Jacob-move," Paul said. "My little anti-hero jab was mostly aimed at _him_."

"Yeah, I know…"

The conversation stalled until Leah spoke up again, "Not that I'm not happy to see your face, but it's the middle of the morning. It's a weekday day. Don't you have a task force to look over?"

Paul gave her a small smile. "They'll be fine for the next hour," he assured her. "Anyway, I'm just here to see that you're still breathing and that Jacob didn't do anything too stupid like put you in a cage."

Leah raised an eyebrow.

"He does stupid shit when he's in panic mode," Paul explained, simultaneously amused and grave. "He gets too much in his head, thinking the world's coming to an end…"

"He's panicking?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't tell?"

Leah could tell. Sort of it. She didn't think it was too serious. Jacob was just being Jacob. She had been working with him long enough to know that he could be protective (to a fault, it seemed). "Well, tell him there's nothing to worry about," she said. "Giving the circumstances, I'm fine."

Paul didn't doubt that. "I'll make sure to tell him that."

"But you'll be fine?" Leah asked. "With everything?"

"Yeah," Paul said, nodding. "The rest of the summer's gonna be miserable with all of the meetings and shit. But I guess I have no one to blame but myself for choosing to become a captain."

* * *

"Did you seriously put Paul in a cage?"

"In my defense, I had never turned anyone before, so I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and have you _seen_ that man when he's raging? I'm pretty sure I've never been so terrified in my life. I think I still have a scar from that night."

"Is it still the most terrifying thing you've seen?"

"It was until recently."

* * *

Leah met up with Aisha on day five. She had to get out of the house before she lost it and since Aisha's scheduled had been modified depending on Sam's availability, she was able to meet up with her friend for lunch.

"When are you returning to work?" Aisha asked before ordering her usual: chicken Caesar wrap with a side of seltzer. "I miss seeing you around."

Not until Paul deemed it acceptable, Leah thought bitterly. So, it wasn't fair to be mad at the man (if he hadn't been for him, she would never, ever have to worry about showing up to work), but she was fine. Still a little disorientated, but she could handle the daily grind.

"Have to check with the doctor," Leah said, sighing. "Can't do anything until she gives me a clean bill of health."

Her doctor wasn't her normal physician. She couldn't use him anymore, especially since she was running a 110-degree "fever." Now, Leah had to check up with Dr. Kim Lopez.

A goddamn veterinarian.

"How are you feeling?" Aisha asked.

"Tired," Leah admitted. "Really, tired, but I supposed it could be worse."

It had been worse. Almost a week ago, she had been found bleeding profusely against a side of a building… she still couldn't _not_ think of that night. It was a recurring nightmare—

"He bit you, didn't he?"

Leah nearly spat out her food. "What?"

Aisha had a knowing look on her face. She wasn't startled or frighten, just completely relaxed as she carried on. "Oh, yeah. He did."

Leah blinked. She hadn't even said a word about that to Aisha—she fully intended to one day; when she figured what the hell was going on with her life. "How did you…?"

"I've worked with the supernatural for years," Aisha pointed out, shrugging. "I know the signs."

"What signs?"

"Well, for one, you're eating meat," Aisha said, pointing at Leah's roast beef sandwich. "And I do recall Paul mentioning something about you getting shot. One week has passed, and you're all good again?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "That's not normal. Human-speaking."

Leah gaze dropped to the table. "I almost died..."

"Yeah, Embry had called in the station that night," Aisha said. "Talking about how they lost her because you wanted to chase after a vampire."

Leah sighed. "Of course, he did."

"Please don't do that again."

"I think I've learned my lesson."

"Good."

* * *

"How did you know?"

Leah didn't have to provide any context to her question; Jacob already knew what it was a having a hard time gathering the right words; a sense of guilt was rolling off of him, confusing Leah. He seemed a bit confused as well, like he was expecting her to lash out on him or what not.

"I just had a feeling," he ended up saying, and then after a couple of moments of silence. "Yeah, a feeling..."

"I didn't want to put in this position," Leah said. He probably didn't want an apology from her (he usually didn't, strangely enough), but she felt she had to say something. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just a dumbass, thinking it was a good idea to chase after a vampire even after Paul had clearly said not to."

"Wasn't your best decision," Jacob agreed. "But if there's one thing I've learned from being in this business, it's that shit happens. We all make mistakes."

"Jacob—"

"Look, I didn't want to put in this position either, but you weren't gonna make it to the hospital," Jacob said. "You were barely holding on when I bit you... I wasn't gonna let you die." He shook his head. " _Never_ , and to be honest, I'd do it again." He shrugged. "I guess that makes me a dumbass, too."


	32. Chapter 31

**Thirty-One**

* * *

By the time Friday came around, Leah was tired living rent-free in Jacob's apartment and her mother's house. Therefore, during the weekend between week one and two of her "forced" work absence from, she decided to return to her apartment for once and for all.

One hour after she entered the apartment, she was sat crossed-legged on the hardwood floor of her living room, Leah realized that Jacob had been right about her apartment: it did feel stale, and it was making her feel a certain kind of way. There was a time when she loved this apartment. The neighborhood was decent; the rent wasn't that bad. It was spacious even for a one bedroom (admittedly, she would have preferred a two-bedroom apartment, but that would imply that there would be some children in the future).

But now, she was starting to hate this place.

She couldn't remember the last time she had spent an entire night here, inside her bedroom, on her bed. For the past few months, she had either been spending time over at her mother's, Aisha's, or Jacob's. She would stop by to do menial things like laundry, clean, freshen up and occasionally eat, but either than that—it felt like a storage space than a home.

Leah wanted to move out so badly, but she was pretty sure prematurely opting out of a lease while Sam was doing undercover work wouldn't be advantageous for her during the divorce proceedings.

She needed him back in her life so she could just get this shit over with.

* * *

Emily had stopped by recently. Not inside her apartment, thank goodness, but she had stood in front of the door to the apartment long enough for her scent to stick around.

It was funny how Leah knew it was _Emily_ , not anyone else.

She didn't know how she should feel about that.

* * *

After finally going through her missed calls and unread text messages, Leah realized that Emily had indeed tried to contact her. It wasn't anything much—just the usual bullshit: _Leah, how are you? Hope we can meet up soon_. And Leah's personal favorite _: Hope you can forgive me. I truly didn't mean for all of this to happen._

"She wants to torture me," Leah told Aisha that night. "There's no other explanation. Why can't she leave me the fuck alone?"

"Get a restraining order," Aisha offered. "That'll shut her up."

* * *

Leah never did get around to getting a restraining order.

 _One more time_ , she told herself. _Just one more time_.

After all, Leah had a sinking feeling that Emily wanted to reach up to learn more about Sam's status. If she genuinely wanted to make up and apologize, she would have put in more effort.

Leah didn't know if this was a good excuse not to call the police on Emily, but that was what she was going to keep on telling herself.

"If you don't do anything about that bitch soon, I'll get the goddamn order myself," Aisha would later threaten. "Don't think I won't do it."

"Don't worry about it. I'll deal with her."

* * *

On the night of day seven, the Tuesday before she could return to work, Leah finally asked her mother about her knowledge of shapeshifters over dinner. Seth was conveniently not around, hanging out with his friends at the movies; Leah actually wouldn't have minded if he was around. After all, he knew about her… change as well.

"I think it's one of those cases when you knew they existed; you didn't know whether you were insane or not. I've heard stories from family members about this... and it's not only with our people. The gene, I suppose, is everywhere," Sue explained. "Your father had a cousin who swore up and down he was a wolf, but we never saw it. He didn't want to show it... I could have thought he was losing his mind, most people did, but who am I to question another's experience? I've been through too much to do so."

"So, you're fine with this?"

Sue gave her daughter a look. "Why wouldn't I be? Yes, it's going to be a change in more ways than one, but what I'm going to do: ostracize you? Report you to the authorities? Have you be turned into a government experiment?" She shook her head. "Admittedly, I was surprised when Jacob told me. I could have just panicked. After all, he told me that he had bitten you, for goodness' sake. But what would have that accomplished?"

 _Not a damn thing_ , Leah thought.

"The important that is that you're alive and well," Sue said reaching out to hold her hand. "Everything else can fall by the wayside."

Leah looked at her mother, tears forming in her eyes. "I love you, mom."

Sue gave her daughter a warm smile. "And I love you, too."

* * *

"Three of Volturi's men arrested. Four from the Denali's and the Cullen's and two from Victoria's. Maria's, only one... Identified as dead: two members of the Volturi: Santiago and Alec. Garrett from the Denali's, I believe. A couple of newborns from Victoria's army, including the one you hit, and off the record: two children of the moon…."

"The Volturi had the worst losses. Santiago was Felix's number two and Alec... that's Jane's brother," Leah told her partner.

She was still on forced sick leave, but Jacob was wonderful enough to keep her in the loop regarding the matters at work. This was becoming a nightly-ritual. Jacob would stop by at her place right after work, usually with dinner (despite her protests) if she hadn't cooked and some work-related gossip. If Leah were honest with herself, Jacob's visits made her apartment more bearable.

"Yeah, I know about Alec…"

"Was Alec our fault?" Leah had to ask. The siblings were close, had been for centuries, and now, one was gone. Leah knew Jane was going to act.

"No," Jacob said. "He was mauled by the COM."

Leah was relieved. Jacob was relieved; the entire Chicago Police Department should be relieved. Jane was a force to be reckoned with.

She knew it first-hand.

* * *

Leah soon realized that Quil's the only place around where she ordered a few steaks for a second lunch and not get judged—her appetite was starting to scare her. It was a little before one in the three on a weekday. Leah was still on "sick leave" (she had sneaked into the police station the morning before, only to get dragged back out by a very exasperated Jacob—she had only let him because he had been right).

"It's better than getting lectured by Paul," Quil pointed out, setting a plate of raw beef steaks in front of Leah and a bottle of A1 sauce—Leah still wasn't used to the taste of raw meat. "He can worse than Jacob."

Leah snorted before cutting a piece of steak and shoving it in her mouth; she moaned at the taste, and it took a lot of self-control not to devour the whole thing in one bite. "I find that hard to believe."

She glanced behind her. Jacob, officially off the clock, was at the other side of the bar, engaging in a very intense conversation about Rebecca and her upcoming art shows. He was in charge of transporting the artwork. He wasn't interested in this conversation, but he knew how much it was a big deal to his sister, so he chose to suffer through learning about packaging canvassing.

Leah had considered saving Jacob, but one look from him told her it wouldn't be worth it.

"Hey, Quil?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know where Dr. Lopez's office is?"

"Oh, you mean Kim." Quil nodded. "Yeah, I'll text it to you."

"Thanks."

"She's really good," Quil carried on, cleaning off the bar table. The other bartenders were out and about getting ready for the upcoming happy hour. " _Very_ _understanding_. We grew up together."

Leah smiled. "Good to hear."

* * *

"Leah Uley," Dr. Kim Lopez said, smiling and shaking Leah's hand. The detective's checkup was a last-minute appointment and was after work hours, but apparently, Jacob had made an arrangement with her while Leah had been unconscious. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally."

"Good morning, Dr. Lopez."

"Kim is just fine," the doctor insisted. "I have a feeling we're going to see more of each other. How are you feeling?"

"Much better from last week. But I'm still not exactly sure what's going on," Leah admitted quietly. "But I'll catch on. I always do."

"Good to hear."

"And thank you for everything," Leah said. "Embry told me you've been keeping track of my vitals while I was dead to the world."

"Not a problem," Kim said. "This isn't my first rodeo."

"So, are you essentially going to be my primary doctor?"

Kim nodded. "Yes, your primary doctor is going to be a vet. Your regular doctor may admit you to the hospital after taking your temperature. And that's the _last_ thing you need right now."

"I can never go to the hospital?"

"You can," Kim said. "But your body needs to get acclimated first. It's still going through a lot; it needs to calm down. Now once that happens, your body temperature will decrease by a few degrees, enough to make it seem like you have a fever, but not you're going to lose consciousness."

Leah nodded. Jacob did let her that. "I'm going to have to get used to this," she said. "But it's not like I have any other chose." Then another thought entered her mind. "What about my gynecologist?"

"You don't have to switch gynecologists," Kim insisted. "Nothing's going to change down _there_. And please keep up with your breast exams. Contrary to what your compatriots _want_ to believe, shapeshifters aren't entirely immune to diseases."

Leah let out a dry, embarrassed cough, and then said under her breath, but loud enough for the doctor to hear, "I can't believe I came back from the dead…"

"I guess you can call it that," Kim said, setting aside her paperwork. "The problem is, you never died. That's why you're experiencing so many unpleasant symptoms. If you, for example, were a vampire, the transformation from human to vampire wouldn't be so… lengthy. Just as painful, so I've been told, but it wouldn't take weeks."

Leah groaned.

This was going to take _weeks_.

"I know it's what you want to hear, but… it's good that you're not working now. You need to get used to the surroundings and yourself. Like I said, you're not a vampire. When you're a vampire, you're _only_ a vampire. There's only one side of you. The one that's dead, but not really," Kim explained. "But you're a shapeshifter. An alive one. You're _you_ , but there's another side, and both sides have to get along."

"If they don't?"

"You'll die, or your life will become a living hell," Kim said truthfully. "Not everyone survives that bite. That's why alphas take it seriously."

"Then why did I…?"

"Survive? There are many reasons, but I can't give you a clear answer. As you can imagine, not many studies focus on this. But the fact that you didn't fight back helped. Going with the flow does wonders to your stress levels, significantly reducing the chances of a stress-induced heart attack."

Leah gasped when something finally down on her. "I passed out all those times due to shock."

"More or less," Kim said, nodding, and then clapped. "Okay, let's check out your vitals. Blood pressure, temperature, and whatnot." After she checked the blood pressure and temperature, she told Leah to lie down on the medic chair. "I'd like to check out that wound."

Leah nodded and lifted her shirt, revealing her stomach. "How…?"

Kim raised an eyebrow as she examined the area by sight and touch. "How, what?"

"How is it all gone?"

"If the bite doesn't kill you, it speeds up the healing process exponentially," Kim explained. "Plus, whoever shot you used standard bullets. You wouldn't have reacted to it…" She smoothed a hand along the wound, causing Leah to flinch. "I took the bullets out that night. So, you don't have to worry about foreign objects in your body."

"Thank you."

"It's my job," Kim said seriously. She then smiled down at her new patient. "But you're welcome."

"Question: how does insurance work?"

"Like the usual," "Technically, I do primary medicine for both people and pets, particularly canines. You'll be fine. And if your insurance company decides to be difficult, I know the magic words to get them to cooperate."

Leah breathed a sigh of review.

Health insurance in this country was a pain in the ass.

"Jacob told me you were a vegetarian?" Kim said before directing Leah to sit up.

Leah picked up on Kim's usage of the past tense but didn't comment on it. "Plus, fish."

"A pescatarian, then," Kim said, and then asked, "By choice?"

"I had a terrible bout of food poisoning."

Kim grimaced. "I don't blame you for abandoning land animals. Food poisoning is the worst."

"I can't be a pescatarian anymore, right?"

"It's not impossible. It's just not advisable," Kim said. "It gets a little dicey because you're a wolf and a human. Wolves are essentially carnivores; humans are omnivores. You're more in the middle."

"Meaning?"

"Start getting used to land animals."

"Got any more advice for me?"

"Yes, I know this is a change for you. A massive change," Kim said. "But don't fight this. I'm not one of you, but I've been around enough shapeshifters to know that doing so never ends well. You're different now, with everything, but you're still you. You're still Leah. Remember that."

"I will."

* * *

Leah dreaded the thought of working out again. She didn't mind the exercise, work-outs tended to clear her mind, but with everything going on, including being "forced" into house arrest for the last week and a half, she hadn't had much time put aside to go out on a run along the lake shore or head to the gym.

But this morning, she was going to stop being lazy and do something simple. So, at eight in the morning, she found her way to the lakeshore trail on the Northside, stretched out her limbs and back for goodness knows how long (she winced at the thought of her future painful shins and feet) and started moving.

And it seemed that she couldn't stop.

By the time she was done, she was just north of downtown. She could see the LaPush Hotel within walking distance and the Hancock Tower not too far off. She stared at the sight in front of her in amazement and disbelief—she had just done about ten miles. One way.

She hadn't run this much since her attempt-to-run-a-marathon days back in college. She had never done ten miles in such a short amount of time, and her body felt terrific. No throbbing shin sprints. Her muscles weren't aching. She wasn't out of breath or too thirsty.

Just hungry.

She was starving.

Like inhaling an entire cow seemed very tempting right about now.

Leah took a deep breath and stretched out her arms and legs out of habit. She then checked the small pocket in the back of her short in case, by some divine chance, she had taken her CTA pass with her—she didn't.

She supposed she could have called for an Uber, but the overwhelming urge to run again push that thought aside.

After cursing under her breath, Leah took another breath and ran back home.

* * *

"We got a Volturi associate to sing," Jacob announced the following evening. He wore the biggest smile Leah had seen in months; it was a nice look on him. "It doesn't give us much, but it's something. The Volturi bosses knew about Demetri's relationship with Jessica and didn't do anything about it…"

"They were in on it," Leah suggested before thanking her partner for copies of the day's report. She quickly read through it—She had suspected the Volturi's were involved in some aspect. If the police could find about Carlisle and Jessica in days, the Volturi could find out in _minutes_. "They must've assumed that they can get some good intel on the Cullen's."

Jacob handed Leah her dinner (giving her a dirty look when she offered to pay him back) and opened his take-out container. He practically beamed at his two burgers. "That's what I'm thinking."

Leah opened the bag and smiled. "You got me a salad."

Jacob shrugged and sat down. "It has some meat it in," he said. "But I know how much you love salad, and I know you don't want to down rare steaks all day. So… yeah, I got you a salad."

"This is only like the second time you've gotten for this me," Leah said, her smile not disappearing. She opened the clear lid from the container, added the dressing, and dug in; the slices of meat didn't scare her off like last time.

"Really?"

Leah nodded before shoving some more salad into her mouth. She swallowed it down and said, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"So, Sulpicia had the necklace duplicated to further the conflict with the Cullen's," Leah said, paraphrasing the report. "Everyone knows how valuable that necklace is to her, and the Volturi would have every right to get it back… but they never had the chance."

"No, Jessica died first," Jacob said. "Honestly, they didn't have to go through all of that trouble…"

"Or maybe they did," Leah argued. "I think they were trying to destabilize the coven family—have everyone distrust Carlisle's leadership."

"But how—"

"Oh, come on, you remember what everyone said about vampires and humans being in the same circles? It's bad news," Leah said. "Carlisle was messing with a human; he was getting her involved in the business exclusively designed for _vampires_. I can't imagine anyone in the coven being happy about that, but they couldn't say squat for obvious reasons. But if a conflict with the Volturi over the necklace _so valuable_ led to a fight, people could've blamed Carlisle for the mess."

Jacob smiled. "You may be onto something."

"You know what they say: great empires fall from within."

"They're gonna have to find another plan," Jacob insisted. "Carlisle's dead. Jessica's dead. Edward, as much as he's an asshole, seems to know what he's doing. His fiancé is a vampire—"

"Who do you think ordered Demetri's execution?"

"What?"

"Demetri, the one who bit Jessica," Leah clarified. "I highly doubt he killed himself, so someone had to have put the bullet in his head for him. It could be retaliation… didn't Bella say he died after the Denali's?"

"Tanya ordered it."

"Bingo."

"Yeah, Carlisle wouldn't have done it," Jacob said. "He knew about the ramifications, but Tanya… she's a firecracker. Just like Victoria, but different. I mean, I wouldn't blame her; her cousins _did_ die at the hand of the Volturi."

"Have they retaliated?"

"Mike's Lounge."

"But they didn't _kill_ the important people," Leah pointed out. "I have a feeling that if they wanted them dead, they'd be dead."

* * *

Leah was back at Quil's—she promised the bar owner that she wasn't stalking him or anything in that nature, but he had brushed off all of her concerns and ensured her that she was always welcomed.

Four more days and she would be "allowed" back to work. She thought she could have returned at the beginning of the week, but Paul had said no. Jacob had threatened to hide her badge somehow, and Leah had given up.

"It's for your own good," Paul told her for the umpteenth time.

Leah huffed, and then, wanting to shift to the conversation that didn't involve her, she asked, "How was work?"

Paul shrugged. "Work's work. Sadly, I have to return in a few hours, but hey, who can say no to overtime?" He stopped to order a beer. _Without WB, this time_ , he told Quil who gave him a thumbs up. "Jacob told you about the newest update?"

She nodded, checking the time on her phone. It was a little after one in the afternoon; the bar wouldn't get busy for another few hours. "Yeah, he did."

"The feds are finally warming up to us," Paul said. "Maybe they're starting to feel bad, which if that's the case: good, they should. This city's politics have our hands tied behind our backs…"

"At least you got someone to speak," Leah said. "The Volturi aren't the most cooperative group of people."

"You got that right."

Leah nodded, and then, "I talked to Kim."

"Ah, how she's doing?"

"How did she become our unofficial doctor?"

"It's a long story."

Leah nodded; she figured it was. "She said I was fine. The next few months are going to be terrible, but I'll live."

"It wouldn't say _terrible_ ," Paul said. "Just different. It's kinda like puberty, but with a wolf. Heck, you're doing a lot better than I did." He let out a long sigh. "I wasn't born like _this_. So, you can only imagine how it was around those guys. I love Jacob, and Embry, Quil, heck even Jared; they're literally family to me. But they didn't know _shit_ about manmade-shapeshifters. They were all born with it."

"Was Jacob panicking then as well?" Leah asked, recalling an earlier conversation.

Paul smirked. "Oh, you have _no_ idea." He thanked Quil for his beer, took a swig, and settled down into his stool. "The first night sucked," he said, staring at the rows of alcohol bottles in front of him; his eyes were unfocused, but his emotions were on high alert, tensed and uncomfortable as he recalled a memory. Leah wanted to stop him, but the captain pressed on, "St. Patrick's was a bitch."

He took another swig.

"Yeah, I've heard."

Paul let out a deep breath. "It was a part of a sting on the Volturi. It involved us, the FBI, DEA, and ATF— major fucking case. It had everything you could've asked for: mobs, drug rings, prostitution rings, illegal arms... It was going to be the biggest, most significant mass arrest since the Al Capone years, but then, it got ugly. You investigated those other guys, but they didn't you about the dead agents. Cops."

Leah gulped.

No, they didn't.

Not even the media knew about that.

"Fourteen agents dead. Five cops, dead," Paul revealed. "Countless others injured…"

"Jesus..." Leah breathed, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Why didn't we hear about this?"

Paul snorted loudly. "Can you imagine what the public would think? It was a covert operation. Damn, I shouldn't even be telling you this..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Anyway, in the middle of that shitstorm, I found myself more or less in a handicap match with two of those Volturi-fucks. It was a gunfight, and then all of a sudden, one of those assholes remembered that they were a vampire and attacked me head on. Long story short: I was basically dead, and your partner over there couldn't imagine a life without me, so he did what he had to do..."

"You wanted it?"

"We had joked about it in the past. Never thought it would happen in reality," Paul said, and then shrugged. "But what you're gonna do? I didn't want to die."

Leah was sensing a common theme. She and Paul had been in the same boat— she hadn't wanted to die either, but she had never expressed any desire to turn. To be honest, Leah hadn't taken the time to think about it—Why would she? It was a long shot. But even if she had considered it, she would have never asked Jacob. She recalled a conversation from sometime back, shortly after Jacob had confessed about his ability to turn people—it wasn't something he took lightly. If he could avoid it, he would.

It seemed like a hassle, more than anything.

Leah still felt a bit guilty about putting Jacob in such a position despite the man insisting countless times that he hadn't regretted his actions—she knew he hadn't.

"Can you... turn people?"

"I ain't an alpha."

"But Jacob is."

"But Jacob is," Paul quietly confirmed, and then let out a humorless laugh. "I swear, it's like that man is trying to turn the whole damn force."

Leah wouldn't put it past him. She let out a sigh. He cares too much."

"That's always been his problem," Paul said. "Not that I'm complaining about you being not dead. I don't want you dead."

"How sweet."

"And you know, Jacob wouldn't have forgiven himself."

Leah nodded. Oh, she knew that _quite_ well. "It wouldn't have been his fault," she quietly replied.

And it wouldn't have been. Jacob's job wasn't to make sure she was safe all the time.

Paul gave Leah a disbelieving look before snorting, "Yeah, try telling _him_ that."

She knew there wouldn't be any point doing so. Jacob could be too stubborn for his own good.

"So... you're a part of his pack then?"

"He turned me and is competent," Paul shrugged. "So, yeah."

"And I am too?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

Leah sighed.

Jacob had told her that leaving her in the dark would be a disservice to everyone and therefore, during the last several days, he had taught her a thing or two about her new "life". But he hadn't told her anything about him being _her_ alpha. It was a topic that Jacob didn't touch for goodness knows what reason.

All Leah knew was that it made him uncomfortable.

"I have no idea what's going on," Leah quietly admitted.

"You will," Paul promised. "Just give it some time, and it'll all become natural to you. You'll reach a point when you don't even have to think about it anymore. And that's when the fun starts."

"Fun?"

"Trust me, there are some useful benefits of being a wolf."

"I'm not a wolf."

"You will be. Give it some time. You gotta get used to some things first."

"Like what?"

"Everything. The changes in your sense of—"

"I can smell the urine from outside."

Paul let out a hearty laugh, slapping Leah on the back. "Now, that never bothered me. I grew up in New York, smiling piss and garbage on hot summer days were the norm, especially when you walked up from the subway." He grimaced at the memory. "Honestly, for me, the worst smell to get over is the ones from a crime scene. Body fluids plus grime plus the mixture of everyone's perfume and colognes..." he gagged. "Still not used to that shit."

Leah sighed. "Yet another thing to look forward to..." She then leaned closer to him, batting her eyes (it was a last resort to get the job done) and asked in a soft voice. "So... can I go back to work tomorrow?"

"You got four more days," Paul reminded Leah, rolling his eyes but there was a fondness behind it. "You'll live."

Leah frowned.

So, the batting of the eyes did not work.

"Not on me," Paul said with a laugh.

Leah rolled her eyes. She didn't think she would get used to this "mind-reading ability. She downed the rest of her coke and said, "I tried."

"Appreciate the effort."

"I ran twenty miles a couple of days ago," Leah told Paul, changing the subject. She would ask Paul again about work before he left her side. " _Twenty miles_ —I can't remember the last thing I've run that much in a day. And after, I felt fine. I'm still not sore."

"You're gonna love running through Sag Forest," Paul said, grinning. "I usually _hate_ running, and I love it."

* * *

"I know Jacob's Jacob, but my _goodness_ ," Leah complained to Embry one morning after getting off the phone with Jacob. "It's overwhelming. I can feel it over the goddamn phone… It's like he thinks I'm going to drop dead or something."

Jacob hadn't been calm around her since she had woken up. Sure, there were times when he was in a relaxed state, usually when food was around, but there was always an undercurrent of stress, and it was driving Leah nuts.

Embry sighed. "Paul had a rough time," he said. "Almost killed him. Guess he's worried that the same thing will happen to you."

Leah was a little shocked at the admission. Paul was one of the toughest people she had ever met, and he was never afraid to prove it to anyone. But then again, Paul, like her, had never expected to get turned.

"I'll give it a couple of months before he stops thinking he cursed you or something," Embry said.

At least, it's not forever, Leah told herself, though it wasn't what she wanted. She wished the man could just open up to her, like how it used to be before... all of this.

"You do know that I have to work with him," Leah said. "Every day, sometimes weekends. I can't have him like this. Can't you talk to him or something?"

"Honestly, I think it would be better coming from you."

* * *

"I've never thanked you, have I?" Leah asked Jacob casually, following an in-depth discussion about the history of animosity between the Cullen's and the Volturi.

Jacob cleared his throat. "There's nothing to thank me for."

"I beg to differ," Leah said. "You need to know that and need to stop worrying about me so damn much. I'm fine. A bit confused, but I'm fine."

"Leah—"

"Jacob, look at me." She softly demanded; she reached over and squeezed his forearm. That seemed to make him more skittish, causing him to look the other way. "Look at me."

He wanted to fight further, but eventually relented and finally, his eyes met hers. "Leah..."

"Thank you _so_ _much_ ," Leah said. "You saved my life. Thank you. Do you understand me?"

Yes..."

"Good," Leah said. She grinned, satisfied. Jacob didn't mind her silent gloating, but he did want this conversation to end. If it were anything else, Leah would have granted him his wish. But she had a feeling that if she didn't tackle the issue now, she would have to wait _another_ week. "Now, based on how everyone's been acting around me, it's safe to say that I'm a part of your pack. Which means I can safely assume that you're my alpha."

The panic in Jacob's eyes meant that his alarm bells were going off, but she disregarded them. She wasn't going to let Jacob off that easy.

"So, tell me about it," she implored softly, reaching over the table to take Jacob's hand into her. She smiled when he didn't pull back. " _Please_."

Jacob did.

* * *

"So, what are you going to do with our favorite undercover detective?" Embry asked one morning as Leah dragged him to the Lakefront trail. She wanted to show him her ability to run close to a marathon without her body staging an enthusiastic protest. The younger cop had been amazed at her time and been convinced that Leah was pulling his tail (Leah laughed at the referenced); Leah wanted to prove him wrong.

Leah stepped aside to let a biker ride pass her and began to stretch her hamstrings. "Excuse me?"

"Your soon-to-ex-husband," Embry clarified. "What are you going to do about him?"

Leah blinked, suddenly speechless. Sam— _fuck_. Right, her husband. The man she was still married to. As far as he was concerned, her wife was a human... not _this_.

"I don't know..." she admitted. Honestly, over the past several days, her husband hadn't spent much time in her mind. "I don't know..."

* * *

"Did you ask Jacob for advice?"

Leah shook her head and sighed. She aggressively ripped off a piece of a baguette and shoved it her mouth. "He offered to kick his ass," she said. "Didn't see a point."

Jacob had said as a joke- and until recently Leah had been convinced that it was only a joke. But now, she couldn't be so sure; it seemed that every time Sam was mentioned (and not even from her), Jacob's anger spiked to Paul's usual levels.

"Aisha, I hadn't even thought about the man until Embry mentioned him earlier, and now… I don't know what to do with him. He still thinks I'm human."

"Many people still think you're human," Aisha pointed out.

" _Aisha_."

"Is it really his business?" Aisha asked. "You're not planning on being married to him for much longer. And wouldn't that make the divorce proceedings more complicated?"

"It's not like he's going to tell the judge that I'm a wolf-shapeshifter-whatever," Leah insisted. He wasn't that dumb or close-minded.

"People become assholes during divorces..."

"Well, he was an asshole before then."

"A bigger asshole then," Aisha said, and then, "I honestly don't know what to tell you. I can see why you want to tell him, but I can also see the other side. If he's feeling vindictive, he can put you and the others in jeopardy."

Leah sighed. "I know..."

"Do you still love him?"

Leah loved Aisha like a sister (her only sister since Emily liked to betray her own blood), but she hated when she asked questions like this. Questions that forced Leah to think and bring up emotions that she wanted to keep hidden until the end of times.

Leah probably would always love Sam, but it was different now. She didn't love him enough (or was crazy enough) to stick by his side. No, he was Emily's now, either he or Emily liked it or not (honestly, she couldn't understand why neither had invested in fucking birth control).

Maybe she would always love him because she had been so used to loving him. They had been together for almost a decade. That was a long time to invest one's life in- perhaps that was she had been so tempted to tell him about the events of the Sunday before last.

"If you're asking me if I'm still in love with him, then no," Leah replied. "But, it's hard to throw away almost ten years... I know I need to get over myself, but it's not going to happen overnight. It fucking sucks."


	33. Chapter 32

**Thirty-Two**

* * *

It was Monday, September 12th, and Detective Leah Uley was finally back at work.

She couldn't explain how relieved she was. Sure, she had begrudgingly enjoyed her time off and needed the time off (like Hell she was going to admit this to Paul, the king of smugness), but she had an overwhelming desire to get to the bottom of this criminal mess. There was only so much she could do off the clock.

Unfortunately, it would only take an hour into being on the job for her enthusiasm to dampen. Because as she sat at her desk, reading through the numerous official reports filed during her absence, she was distracted by the smell of the police station. She had known her heightened senses were something she had to get used to. But during the last couple of weeks, she had been spoiled; not one time had she been in a confined area packed with so many people. With so many scents, different levels of cleanliness and then there was a mix of cologne and perfumes, the smells emitting from evidence stored in the station, the combination of food from the break room and the whiff of scents from the bathroom's— they had been thoroughly cleaned, but the cleaning products weren't doing her nose any favors.

"You alright?"

Leah looked across the desk where Jacob sat. He was concerned, as usual, but over the past couple of days, he had calmed down somewhat. "I'm fine."

Jacob wasn't convinced.

"Overwhelming?"

Leah curtly nodded. She tried to ignore everything—every sound and every smell—to the best of her ability, but the sensory overload continued to hit her like a load of bricks. "Tell me it gets better."

"You get used to it."

Those weren't the words she wanted to hear. But then again, perhaps they were. Jacob was never the type to host a pity party. He was telling her that "this, too, shall pass". Strangely, it was more comforting than an apology.

"Like everything?"

"Like everything," Jacob said. "Just concentrate on what matters. Humans do it all the time, just not to this effect."

Leah wanted to believe him; she had gotten this far believing in her partner, and it hadn't gotten her killed. But the smells of coffee, body odor, cologne, the station and its old equipment, the smell of cleaning fluid mixed with the dirt of the floor, before she knew it, she was becoming nauseous. "Ignore it," she told herself. "Ignore it."

Her mantra was interrupted by the conversation happening in Paul's office. The office wasn't next to Leah's desk, but it was close enough to hear what was being discussed behind closed doors.

" _We can't keep this incident quiet_ ," Paul's immediate supervisor, the commander of the "Extraordinary Crimes Division", said.

There were six other people in the room, including the captain, Jenks, some representatives from the federal agencies and the head of the department's public relations.

" _We did with Saint Patrick's,"_ Paul pointed out.

" _I distinctly remember being bombarded with the media every step of the way_ ," the commander grumbled. " _I distinctly remember the goddamn state Senate asking for a hearing and not to mention_ —"

" _We just won't tell the whole story_ ," the head of P.R. suggested. " _Just like Saint Patrick's. The last thing we need is mass panic._ "

" _So, we're just going to keep on letting this happen_?" Jenks asked.

" _No_ ," one of the feds' representatives said, " _No. We need a solution, but we cannot involve the media. We do so, and we can kiss this whole supernatural-anonymity goodbye_."

The commander cursed and then, " _There's more to life than_ —"

Leah stopped listening after that. She looked at Jacob; judging on the exasperated look on his face, he must have overheard the conversation himself.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Leah asked, "How's Emmett?"

Jacob snorted.

Embry let out a dry cough.

Leah sighed. So, it seemed that the Emmett case had stalled again. Although the ATF had tons of evidence to charge Emmett with, they were becoming increasingly interested in the man's other connections. "Becoming increasingly difficult over the past few days. But the feds still have faith in him."

"Has he said anything new or useful?"

"Only that Jessica was having an affair with Carlisle," Embry said. "But Carlisle couldn't be the killer because he had an alibi."

Leah shook her head. Carlisle's alibi didn't really matter in a grand scheme of things. He was a mob boss; he could make some arrangements without being there. Not that the police could ask him since he was dead.

Speaking of him being dead—

"Are we looking into the death of Carlisle Cullen?" Leah asked. "Benjamin said that he died from his injuries, but I don't think he believes that's the truth."

"Because it's not," Jacob said, and then, "It's most likely not. That would only be too coincidental."

"Coincidences happen all the time."

"I don't think this instance counts."

"Yeah, it probably doesn't," Leah said, staring out the distance and sighed.

"So, if Carlisle was offed, it must've been an inside job," Embry said.

"He didn't leave his house..." Jacob said, eying Leah. He paused and then said, "You think she did it."

Embry seemed to think so as well.

Leah looked eyes with Jacob. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to," Jacob said. "She has the motive."

"Hell yeah, she does," Embry said, nodding. "Anyway, she was his wife. She would have the most access to Carlisle while he was on his sick bed."

"Shit."

"Of course, we have no proof," Leah said, disappointed. A constant emotion when dealing with these cases. "We have no body. We're not going to get permission to get inside the Cullen house even with a goddamn warrant."

Jacob leaned against his chair, arms crossed, deep in thought. Leah and Embry exchanged looks while Jacob remained quiet. When the man loosened his arms, Leah spoke up, "You have a plan."

Jacob nodded. "Yeah, I have a plan."

* * *

Come to find out, Aisha shared Leah's suspicions.

"There was this Chinese drama I watched a few months back," she told Leah over lunch. "Terrific show… I think it's called Empresses in the Palace. It took place during the Ming Dynasty, I think, and it's centered around the drama between the Emperor's concubines."

"Nice," Jared commented, walking past the detectives, heading out of the breakroom.

Leah and Aisha rolled their eyes.

" _Anyway_ ," Aisha carried on, "It's a very fascinating show about the hierarchy and what these women would do to get on top. I didn't realize this, because admittedly, I'm not an Imperial China-savant, but the HBIC wasn't the Empress. Yeah, she had power, but it was the dowager empress or mother who had everything on lock…"

"Are you implying that Esme is the dowager empress?" Leah asked. "And that the Emperor is… Edward?"

"Well, yeah," Aisha confirmed. "I think she's a pretty decent lady, relatively speaking, but something tells me that she'll do anything to make sure the family stays intact."

"Like kill off Carlisle."

"Like kill off Carlisle," Aisha said, and then, "They had been married for decades. She's been his ride and die, and he respected her in his way. I don' think that Jessica was his first mistress; I think she was the first one to step out of her lane, and it messed with the family dynamics."

Leah nodded, finding no reason to dispute her friend's facts. Aisha had worked on numerous cases relating to the Cullen's and had tons of sources. "Jacob says he has a plan to get to the bottom of Carlisle's death," she said.

"A search warrant?"

Leah shook her head. "That won't do shit. They most likely disposed of the evidence _and_ the body, and you know no one's going to talk until there's a gun loaded with a UV aimed at their heads." She took a bite out of her roast beef sandwich. "You know Benjamin's _working_ for them.

"I thought he was working for the Volturi?"

"He _is_. The Volturi made him a Cullen-plant."

"How is he still alive?"

Leah shrugged. "I don't know, but I can imagine the ATF pulling him soon. The families can't be too happy about how the raid went. Sure, no one too important is in police custody, but _someone's_ in police custody."

"Someone must be vouching for him then," Aisha suggested. "If he's indeed a plant, then the Volturi must have really trusted him."

Leah nodded. Aisha was right. A scrub couldn't gain a mobster's trust unless he did something to impress another high-ranking member. Trust and efficiency were essential in this business.

* * *

According to Benjamin, no one from the Olympic or the Volturi covens suspected him of anything, but he was on high alert. He confirmed Martinez's intel about the purge; the bosses were becoming antsy, worried that the feds were closing in and would launch another raid before the year ended.

"Don't be surprised when the bodies start dropping," he told Leah and the team one night.

"As long as it's not you," Leah said.

Benjamin smiled at that, finally loosening up in the detective's presence. He had been tensed for some time, from the first moment he had laid his eyes on Leah that night. He had known about the bite without Leah even saying a word.

"So, you'll find out about Carlisle's death?" Jacob asked.

Benjamin nodded. "It's the least I can do especially since the raid ended the way it did. I'm trying to stay on your captain's good side, thank you,"

* * *

"What's up, Martinez?" Jacob asked the following morning, moments before the trio was scheduled to head out the Office of the Medical Examiner. Bella had called him earlier, requesting everyone's presence. She sounded serious, but not as urgent as she could have been.

"Our favorite supernatural gangsters are doing a purge. The bosses ain't too happy about the raid even though some people got away. They think someone talked which is true…" Martinez shrugged. "Word on the street is that Jane is on the outs."

Leah's eyes widened. Jacob nearly choked on his coffee, and Embry almost fell out of his chair.

"As the _Volturi_ Jane?" Jacob asked.

"The one and only."

Leah gulped.

"Holy shit," Embry said. "It's like an end of an era."

"Why is she in trouble?" Leah asked Martinez; this was a development indeed. "She had nothing to do with us knowing about the tunnel meeting. Unless she went off when she found out about Alex."

"It could have been a mutual split," Jacob offered and then asked Martinez. "Is she dead?"

"No."

"Then there it is," Jacob said. "The Volturi has no issue killing off their own. If they're letting her walk, there must have been an agreement."

"Do we know where Jane is now?" Leah asked.

Martinez shook his head. "No, but we're keeping an eye out for her. She may look like she shops at Hot Topic, but she isn't someone to fuck with," he said. "Our source claimed that the Volturi offed a few low-level soldiers—all newborns. And Victoria isn't too happy with her band of newborns—"

"How isn't she in jail yet?" Leah asked. "She's implicated in over fifteen murders."

Everyone else shrugged.

"Haven't heard much from the Olympic front," Martinez carried on. "I doubt with Edward being in charge anything crazy is going to be happy; he's been a little cautious. But then there's Tanya. You never know what's up with her."

"And news about Carlisle's death?" Leah asked.

Martinez shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Everyone's tight-lipped about it. Which leads me to believe that he hadn't died from his injuries."

* * *

"You knew Monica?"

Leah's question was admittedly random.

She and Embry were standing outside in the parking lot, waiting for Jacob to emerge from the station. Even with the raid shit storm, the trio was still assigned to the Dahlia murder while the task force and the feds handled everything else; Leah was glad to hear it. She had joined the task force to get to the bottom of Jessica's murder; she didn't want the case to be pushed aside because rival gangs were going at it again.

Embry raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his coffee. "From vice?"

"No," Leah said, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. She was seriously craving for a second breakfast; if Jacob could make an appearance in a few minutes, they might be able to get some food before heading off to the Office of the Medical Examiner. "Jacob's ex-wife."

"Oh."

"So, you knew her."

"She's nice. The last time I checked, she's a nurse at Swedish." Embry finished the last of his coffee and tossed the empty cup in the garbage several feet from him; he grinned when he made the shot. "Her cinnamon buns were crack. She'd make it every Sunday, and if Jacob were nice enough, he'd bring some over. They were together since high school. Crazy about each other, but then things got bad."

Leah sighed. "Yeah, he told me."

"He used to be… different. Like Jared, in a way, if you can believe it." Embry snorted. "But that sex ring case fucked him up, and he had started spending more time with the pack. Going on more late-night runs to clear his head…"

"She thought he was cheating on him," Leah realized.

"More or less, but he wasn't," Embry insisted vehemently. "But I can't blame her for thinking that. The idiot never told her about being a shapeshifter. Maybe if he had, she'd understand." He shrugged. "Or maybe not. People react to things differently…" He sighed. "He could've handled the situation better."

Even Jacob had admitted that.

"I don't think she could handle it anymore," Embry carried on. "Especially after finding out about the wolf. It was too much to digest."

Jacob had admitted that too.

"You think he still loves her?"

"Define love."

"You know, _in love_."

"You and him are in the same boat," Embry said, giving Leah a pointed look. He was trying to tell Leah something with his eyes, but Leah couldn't catch on. Or maybe she did but refused to acknowledge it. "In regards to how you two feel about your ex's."

"I'm still married."

"Yeah, on paper. But you're done. You were done months ago."

Leah snorted, crossing her arms. "And how would _you_ know?"

"Dude, I saw the way you looked at Sam at the slaughterhouse," Embry said, waving at Jacob was finally walking out of the station. "That relationship was _over_."

* * *

"Thank you for stopping by," Bella said as she led the trio down the hallway, leading to her lab. "I know this is the last place you want to be at after everything…" she trailed off as she looked back at Jacob. She was trying to catch Jacob's attention, but he was indifferent to her. Friendly, professional, but not entertaining her advances.

Leah tried not to react to Bella's disappointment (Embry had noticed but said nothing; he usually didn't when it came to Bella). It seemed that the man had truly moved on from the medical examiner, and Bella, being so used to being desired, didn't know what to do with that. Leah wished she could tell the other woman that they were other fish in the sea (with less baggage), but something told her that it wouldn't help the situation. So, she, like Embry, was going to stay out of it and focus on the task at hand.

Bella had called them over for a reason.

"Why this victim?" Leah asked.

"Something tells me that he's involved in your investigation," Bella replied, opening the doors to her lab. Eric wouldn't be in today; he had taken the week off to handle some family business. "I hope I'm wrong."

So did Leah.

"If people can stop getting killed, that'd be nice," Embry remarked, shaking his head. "What's the body count now?"

"I stopped counting after the slaughterhouse murders," Jacob admitted.

Bella sighed and gave everyone a forlorn look before approaching the corpse lying in the metal table located in the middle of the room. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the white sheet, revealing the victim.

Leah's heart skipped.

Jacob cursed.

Embry was speechless.

Bella looked at the cops, a little taken aback by the reactions. "You knew him?"

Jacob and Embry looked Leah's way.

"The name's Riley Biers," Leah replied quietly. She wanted to touch the man to make sure he was gone. But the bullet to his head and the ring of burnt skin around the wound told her that Riley wouldn't come back to this. "He worked for Victoria…" She looked away. "He just wanted to avenge Bree's death. He was gonna get—" she paused to compose herself, and then, "He was going to start a new life after this bullshit."

"Well, crap," Bella said, understanding the gravity of the situation. "He was found late last night in Little Village. A couple of teens found him. Shot execution style. Judging by the state of the body, he wasn't killed by a high-quality UV, but it was enough to kill him."

"Anyone else looked at him?" Jacob asked.

"A couple of detectives stopped by earlier, but once they realized that the victim wasn't human, they refused to look more into it," Bella said. "Apparently, it's true after all that vampires aren't priorities."

"It's complicated," Embry said. "Really complicated."

"We need the police report," Leah finally spoke up, clearing her throat. This wasn't her fault; she knew that. But she wished it didn't have to end this way. "Whoever did this killed an informant."

Jacob refrained from suggesting otherwise.

"I guess this is what Martinez meant by purging," Embry said, shaking his head. "Riley ain't gonna be the last one."

* * *

When the gang told Paul about Riley's death, it took everything in the captain's power not to punch a hole through the whole. Instead, he promised them that Victoria and Laurent would be in CPD's custody by the end of the night.

"And that's a promise," Paul declared; the stormy expression on his face showed that he wasn't playing around. "They're not getting away with this. As far as we are concerned, the James Coven is dead."

Leah appreciated the determination, but arresting Victoria and Laurent wasn't going to be the walk in a park. Paul might have to bring in the SWAT team and guns loaded with UVs.

It turned out, she'd learn hours later, that was just what he had done.

And more.

"You're giving us the Riley case?" Jacob asked later that night, glancing at Leah. "I thought this was going be the feds'?"

"We'll deal with the feds later," Paul said. "Those fucks can be charged in both federal and state court. After all, you guys have more an incentive to get to the bottom of this murder. He gave you information about Jessica's murder, which as of right now, isn't a part of a federal investigation."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "Wait, but why not?"

"They're more focused on the raid," Paul said. "Everything's else is being pushed to the backburner. The feds even took some agents away off the slaughterhouse case." He took a breath, folded his hands on his desk and said, "So, I'm entrusting you and Martinez's team to send Victoria and Laurent to Alcatraz. Hopefully, our bosses can get their heads out of their asses and forget about the Deal."

* * *

Victoria and Laurent were being held without bail at an off-site. Paul didn't want to risk keeping two volatile vampires in a regular jail. He didn't want a blood bath.

"They're not saying shit," Jacob complained to the captain a few days later. "Even after the indictment. Even after their lawyer said, they want a deal."

"He told you that?" Paul asked, surprised.

"We overheard him," Leah explained. "If we're going to do something, we have to do something soon. They want to invoke the Deal."

Paul cursed loudly, and then, "I'll talk to the higher powers. Hopefully, they'll realize the gravity of the situation and piss on that goddamn deal—"

"But if they don't?" Jacob asked.

"We'll have to give the case to the feds," Paul replied, but he didn't want that to happen. Referring a case to the feds that during normal circumstances could be handled by the police department sent the wrong message. He was tired to be held back by the Deal.

"They need to grow some goddamn balls," Jacob grumbled, throwing up his arms in frustration. "I'm sick and tired of this shit. We can't even do our jobs!"

Everyone was tired of this shit.

* * *

Jenks ended up telling them the bad news later that week.

"They don't want to touch the case," he said, shaking his head. Disappointed, but not surprised. "Your captain did try to knock some sense into him. But you know how it is, politics. The Deal doesn't bind the feds."

"We shouldn't be either," Leah maintained, and then asked, "There's _nothing_ we can do? Those assholes killed off my C.I. He was an integral part of investigating the Dahlia and the slaughterhouse murders. "

"The feds can toss the book at them," Jenks reasoned. "At this time, we can't. Unless something changes on top, we can't do anything with Victoria and Laurent but provide support to the feds."

" _Bullshit_ ," Jacob grumbled. "This is absolute bullshit."

* * *

"Sometimes, I hate this job."

It was a slight understatement. The feeling was expected; Leah knew that being a detective wasn't going to be easy, but she had always been convinced that she could handle the work. And she strongly believed, after everything that had occurred over the past several months, that she could handle everything thrown her way. But this, what happened to Riley... the murder of someone she had worked with, it never got easier.

Jacob let out a deep sigh. "Yeah, me too…"

"I didn't want him to die. I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He was a good kid, you know. A little misguided, but he wanted out." Leah looked at the beer bottle in her hand, sorely disappointed in its lack of effectiveness. "This is my third one," she declared. "I'm not even tipsy."

"You won't be," Jacob said. "You gotta put some WB in it."

"Wolfsbane," Leah gave her partner a look. "Doesn't that shit kill you?"

"Yeah, it can be dangerous. It operates like alcohol. Very strong alcohol. Too much of it will kill you, but a minute amount won't," Jacob explained before calling out. "Hey, Quil, gimme a beer with some WB!"

Quil slid a beer across the bar table. After thanking the man, Jacob handed it to Leah. "Try it."

Leah did and soon choked at the burning sensation in her throat. She hadn't felt _that_ since her first time downing a shot of tequila. "Fuck, that's strong."

"One beer's enough."

Leah strongly agreed with Jacob; she didn't think she could even finish the whole bottle. After taking another sip, she asked in a quiet voice, "When you shift, does everything go away? Like feelings?"

"Wolves have emotions, too," Jacob said, seemingly disappointed. "I mean, sure if you go on a run, you'd forget about everything for a few hours, but when you're done, everything comes back. Trust me, I've _tried_."

Leah looked at her beer; she was in the mood to down the whole thing, but something held her back. Instead, she pulled out her phone vibrating in her pocket, ready to silence it until she realized that it was from Embry.

She checked with Jacob, who shrugged.

Clearing her throat, she held the phone to her ear and said, "This better be good. I had a bad day- What?"

Leah didn't even have to tell Jacob. He cursed under his breath, slapped some cash on the bar table, and slid off the stool.

"Tell him we'll be there in twenty," Jacob told Leah before taking out his phone and bringing it to his ear. "Yo, Paul," he said, watching Leah as she gathered her things. They had to leave in a minute. "We got a problem."

The call had been from Embry, who had received a message from Jared that a young woman was found dead in her apartment, and Mike Newton had confessed to her murder.

* * *

"I've had it. I'm transferring to another state," Bella declared as she exited Jacob's car, slamming the passenger door shut. She followed the detective to the newest crime scene—a high-end condo in Edgewater inside which a young woman had been found shot to death. "I think Charlie would love to see me in Forks. He's convinced that by living out here, my life expectancy has been cut by a decade or so."

Leah didn't add to the conversation she and Jacob walked up to the entrance of the condo and flashed their badges. The doorman let them in without another word.

"But wouldn't you be bored in Forks? Jacob asked, trying to lighten the mood, but he was a bit frazzled as well.

"Maybe boredom's just what I need..."

Leah could understand where Bella was coming from. Tonight was supposed to be their night off, but instead of conversing over hot wings and beer at Quil's, she and Jacob were here- Leah cursed Mike for thinking it was a splendid idea to commit a murder at this time of night.

The trio soon found Embry standing outside of the crime scene, drinking a from a can of Red Bull; he looked exhausted. After stepped aside to allow some more officers to enter the apartment, he noticed his partners and Bella and waved. "You're late."

He was trying to be funny due to his exhaustion, everything fell flat.

"Sorry, you know how Lake Shore Drive is," Jacob said, peering through the doorway. "Who's the victim?"

Letting out a defeated sigh, Embry didn't answer the question. Instead, he motioned for everyone to enter the apartment so that they could take a look for themselves—

Leah had seen this coming. _She had seen this coming_ , but her foresight still hadn't prepared her for the sight in front of her. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she exclaimed. Jacob stood right now to her, rendered speechless. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Embry looked down at the victim—Lauren Mallory—who was laying a few feet away from the group, lying on her side with blood pooling from her torso. "Oh, I wish I was…"

"My goodness…" Bella breathed out as she approached Lauren. She reached into her work bag, pulled out a pair of latex gloves, and put them on. "Only her?"

"Only her," Jacob replied, still stunned at the turn of events.

Leah went to Bella's side and crouched down. Two shots—one to the abdomen, right above the pelvis, and one to the torso; judging from the location, the bullet must have pierced an intestine. No matter how quickly the EMT's had shown up, Lauren wouldn't have survived; she had practically bled to death.

Leah's eyes quickly scanned the body—she had been shot from the front, so she hadn't been running away—she looked around. No other bullet holes of shells had been found.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."


	34. Chapter 33

**Thirty-Three**

* * *

"This looks like a classic shooting to me," Bella concluded as she took pictures of Lauren's body. "But this isn't set up as a crime of passion. It's like… I don't know. A hit?"

"It most likely was," Leah said. Bella was right to an extent; it was just a simple shooting. Two shots to the torso; Lauren would have never made it, but she would have seen it coming. Even for a split second; she had been shot from the front. "Embry said that Jared arrested Mike Newton for the murder. He didn't even put up a fight."

Bella glanced up at the detective. "Of fucking course," she groaned.

"Language."

"I'm sorry." Bella shook her head. "It's just this city…"

"There's no need to apologize," Leah insisted, reaching out to put a sympathetic hand on the medical examiner's shoulder, but then held back. She looked to her right, where Jacob and Embry stood, not far from the front doorway, check out the frame. "I think this city's testing everyone's patience."

Bella grunted in response.

* * *

Leaving Embry and Bella behind with Lauren, Leah and Jacob roamed around the large condo to gather some information. Jacob felt more resigned than anything about the situation, but Leah was upset, more upset than she usually was at a crime scene. Each murder scene was difficult, but knowing the victim, actually speaking to the victim, trying to convince her to get some protection... it made everything worse. She took a deep breath, running a hand down her face as she pressed on, only stopping when Jacob took her hand, holding her back.

"We did what we could..."

He was right. He was _so_ right. They had offered witness protection to Lauren, but she had declined. She had declined many times, but it didn't make the situation better. The fact was that another witness was dead.

"I know..."

"Hey, guys, there's something I wanted to show you," Embry announced from being, squeezing between the detectives to get in front. "I have something to show you." He asked one of the officers hanging around to hand him a bag of evidence. Once in his possession, he held up high for Leah and Jacob to see. "Look who issued a check for one hundred large."

Jacob snatched the bag, eyes growing wide as he examined it. "Edward Cullen..." he read, handing it to Leah. "Edward Mason."

"His lack of creativity when it comes to creating aliases disappoints me," Leah remarked, deadpanned as she took a look at the check. "It was issued a week after she had returned to Chicago. The Cullen's wanted to keep her quiet."

"Makes sense," Embry said. "She was there at the night of Mike's ambush, and she was Jessica's friend, _and_ Carlisle had his sights on her..."

"You think he sealed the deal?" Jacob asked.

Leah shook her head. "I don't think he had the time. Lauren went M.I.A right after," she said. "So, the most likely scenario, someone must have figured out that she had talked and ordered a hit."

Jacob and Embry nodded.

"C'mon," Embry said, motioning the detective to follow him around the apartment so he could point some things out. He had arrived at the crime scene about twenty minutes before Leah and Jacob, so he had a chance to check out the place. "No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle. Lauren must have let Mike in without a problem."

"I didn't know they were that close..." Jacob remarked as Embry led them to the bathroom.

"Maybe she felt obligated to deal with him after he saved her," Leah said, finding the entire situation ironic. She peeked inside the bathroom and pointed at Lauren's make-up bag. "Cosmetics look recently used, so I assume she was planning to have a night out."

"With Mike?" Embry asked.

Leah nodded. "I assume so. He's the only other scent I've caught in this place so far."

"Yeah, I'm picking up his scent, too," Jacob said, and then shook his head. Something just didn't sit right with him. "I just—Mike may be _Mike_ , but he ain't a hit man."

"Well, he confessed to murdering in cold blood," Leah pointed out, checking the time on her phone. "Embry, he's in custody?"

"Yeah, Jared and Thomas brought him in," Embry said. "I know it's getting pretty late, but this would be the time to question Mike. I'll stay back. Let me know if you need anything."

Leah and Jacob nodded in agreement.

* * *

Leah wasn't looking forward to Mike's interrogation, and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was almost ten o'clock at night. She was wide awake at this time, not being able to rest until she got a word from the man sitting across from her and Jacob.

A man she barely recognized. He went by "Mike Newton", but this wasn't the Mike Newton wasn't the scheming, cocky man who always boasted his connections with both the lawful and the unlawful worlds. No, this was a man who looked defeated,

Mike must have known he was more or less fucked. He had been arrested for murder: murder one, most likely murder two, or if he was lucky, manslaughter. He was going to get indicated and not even his lawyer to get him out of that. Mike Newton was going to be put away for a very long time also if the feds didn't get involved.

"Let's get this shit over with," Mike mumbled.

"Where's Shapiro?" Jacob asked. "Why isn't your lawyer here?"

"Does it fucking matter?" Mike snapped at Jacob in an unrecognizable voice, slouching his seat. It seemed like he had thoroughly checked out. "It's over either way."

Leah sighed and gave Jacob an alarmed look.

"Does Shapiro know about your confession?"

Mike shook his head.

"Let's get him in before you start talking," Leah suggested. "It'll make everyone's lives easier. Including yours."

Mike didn't fight it.

* * *

Shapiro showed up an hour later and announced to the detectives that his client was ready to spill his heart out.

Mike wasn't even asking for a plea bargain.

Which led Leah to believe that he wanted to go to prison. He must have thought that being incarcerated was better than being free.

He must have been threatened.

"What happened?" Jacob asked Mike, leaning over the table with his hands folded "Just... tell us what happened, and then we can see if we can make an arrangement."

"I said I don't want a goddamn deal," Mike said. "I just wanna be put away. Fuck everything."

Leah raised both eyebrows.

Well, then.

Shapiro let out an exasperated sigh.

"Let's check again when you're done talking," Jacob suggested, voice completely void of his usual Mike-designated snark. To him, he was just another perp. "So, tell us your side of the story..."

And Mike did.

* * *

Lauren was never supposed to be at the Edgewater condo.

She was supposed to be at her parents; home in out in the southwest suburbs; That was the arrangement she had made with Rosalie, one half of the duo that had been responsible for Lauren's safe return.

Another aspect of the arrangement was a settlement of one hundred thousand dollars. And for some reason, Lauren, after all this time, hadn't cashed it.

Lauren admitted that she wasn't fit for the fast life—she was done with all of the bullshit relating to Jessica. She wanted to return to school, wanted to register for another semester so she could graduate college. That was why she had decided to stay in Jessica's Edgewater condo, the one Carlisle had bought for her last summer. It was a beautiful place; it was fully furnished, with leather couches and all. Jessica had been nice enough to give her a spare key—though she now suspected there had been another reason. A reason that involved a risky extortion plan that Jessica had never had the chance to pull off.

Or at least that was what she told Mike Newton.

Their relationship was complicated. Nothing intimate, but complicated. Maybe Lauren thought they were friends, but Mike... he didn't think much of her. In his mind, as long as she stayed in her lane, he could remain in his unscathed.

At least, that was what he had promised to Edward.

That night, Mike arranged a night out with Lauren to celebrates... fuck, he didn't know. But he arrived at Jessica's (now Lauren's) place at 8:30 pm, just like planned.

Lauren thought nothing of it, but Mike felt troubled, thinking about the events of the previous night, when he had been forcibly dragged into Carlisle's, no, Edward's office to explain to the new boss exactly why Lauren had talked. Mike hadn't known the reason; heck, he hadn't even known that Lauren had contacted the authorities in the first place—but that hadn't mattered. Edward hadn't wanted to hear excuses; he had wanted answers and a promise that Mike would straighten everything out or suffer something worse than death—he shuddered at the thought.

"Hey, Mike, are we going far?" Lauren asked as she led him further into the apartment. She looked... beautiful, but Mike couldn't let that cloud his judgment.

"Nah, just down Broadway. How does Giordano's sound?"

"Oh my god, yes!"

"Giordano's, it is," Mike said. He let out a deep breath and patted the back of his jeans to make sure he had everything he needed. Lauren was expecting them to leave soon to share a pizza and maybe take a little stroll along Lake Michigan. Mike had other plans.

Mike was never known for doing a mob's dirty work. He had promised himself a long time ago that he would never get in that deep; being unaffiliated but cooperative was a much safer route for a (now former) small business owner. But Edward had found a way to convince him to do it via extreme bodily harm. A part of Mike blamed himself for Lauren's betrayal. He had warned her about the consequences of talking. Hell, he had taken her across various state lines because of that very thing. But apparently, Lauren just couldn't help it.

Muttering under his breath, Mike pulled out a gun from the waist of his jeans and slowly headed towards the bathroom, where Lauren was still trying to put on her fake eyelashes while lowly singing a pop tune.

He thought about interrogating her, mainly to find out why she had done something so goddamn stupid, but he didn't have time for that. He needed to act fast.

"M-Mike…" Lauren choked out, startled. She dropped her lashes and took a step back. Her eyes were glued to the gun. "What are you—"

Mike could have answered her, but instead, he pulled the trigger three times without another thought—this wasn't the time to second guess himself. Lauren slumped to the ground, trying to hang on while lying on her side, bleeding profusely from her torso and coughing up blood. The shots should have killed her instantly, but there wasn't much for Mike to worry about. She wasn't going to make it, and it took only another fifteen seconds for him to be sure of it.

It took another fifteen seconds for Mike to realize what he had done. He immediately dropped the gun and stared at Lauren's lifeless body with wide eyes. He had only killed one other person in his life, and it was out of self-defense: a drug deal gone very wrong back in his teenage years. In a way, Mike could convince himself that he had killed Lauren out of self-defense; Lauren had jeopardized his life the moment she had decided that running to the police was a good idea—but that excuse wasn't going to work for the police or the judge.

He could run. He had the perfect opportunity. There was a party going on across the hall. No one had rushed to the room when he had fired the shots, so he assumed that either no one had heard or those who did didn't have enough nerve to confront him—he might be able to escape unnoticed.

But he didn't have the drive to flee.

Mike began questioning his actions as he paced around the apartment. He had done this because Edward had more or less ordered him to get even and make up for his recklessness. Mike had done what he was told, but would that change anything? Edward and the rest of the Olympic coven were never going to trust him again, even after he had offed the rat. No trust meant no protection from other gangs and the police. The Volturi? Forget it. He knew Felix would be visiting him sometime soon, but more times than not, rationality was tossed out the window when someone's gang was threatened.

Mike cursed under his breath. He was fucked in every scenario he could think of, he concluded as he headed into the dining room. He stopped when he noticed a written check on the table. It wasn't addressed to anyone, but he assumed that Lauren had been given the money in exchange for her silence. He could take it and cash it under his name; one hundred thousand dollars could go a long way. Or he could destroy it. Or he could leave it and write in Lauren's signature. It couldn't get cashed; Lauren was dead—

He was going to leave it there, he decided. He was going to get arrested for Lauren's murder, and he was going to confess; being in prison would probably be safer than roaming the free world—but that check would connect Lauren's death to the Cullen's. The police could nab them for solicitation and/or conspiracy for murder. Mike could help them and get away with a decent-enough plea deal.

Moments later, after calling 911 and sealing his fate, Mike gently hung up the phone, pulled out a chair, and sat down in the hallway across from the bathroom. He glanced at the gun and sighed. He was fucked, and he had no one to blame but himself. He should have led a straight life; he should have just run his bar without getting intimately involved in the mob drama. He should never have been curious about what it would be like to be an informant. But he had been, and now, he was going to pay for it...

" _Police_!"

Mike swore loudly as the police barged into the apartment. He recognized that voice, something he had hoped wouldn't happen. If anyone was going to arrest him; he wanted it to be someone had had never met. It would make it easier; there would be no dumb, prying questions when it was an unknown cop—at least, that was how it was in his experience.

He glanced at the murder weapon. It was still loaded, and if he wanted to, the thought kept running through his head, he could quickly reach for it and aim it at the intruding cops. But he decided against it; they were here because he had called them here. They were doing their jobs, and anyway, from the sound of it, there was more than one cop in his apartment. He decided just to wait until they came to the area near the bathroom—

"Oh, you've got to be— _Mike_?" Jared cursed, almost dropping his gun in shock when he caught sight of Mike sitting across from the bathroom where Lauren's motionless body lay. A gun, which he assumed was the murder weapon, wasn't too far from him. Mike obviously knew he was here with the cops, but didn't make any efforts to retrieve the weapon in an attempt to defend himself.

"Long time, no see..." Mike mumbled.

Embry motioned for the other cops to check around the apartment, as he continued to aim his gun at Mike, just in case the man wanted to make a run for it.

But Mike wasn't going to run.

"Mike Newton, you are under arrest for the murder of Lauren Mallory. You have the right to remain silent—"

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know..." Mike put his hands behind his back before the officer had the chance to. Jared waited for the other cops to return before putting the handcuffs on him; someone had to make sure a gun was aimed at him at all times. Mike couldn't help but snort. He already knew how this whole thing worked.

"—anything you say or do will be used against you in the court of law—"

"Let's get this shit over with."

Jared took Mike by the arm and led him into the living room before notifying the other cops that he had apprehended the suspect. "Why did you do it?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Why?" Mike let out a maniacal laugh. "That bitch fucked up my life."

"You should have left her alive," Jared told him, shaking his head as he led Mike out of the apartment by the arm. The other officers followed close behind. "You saved her life. She might have done the same for you."

* * *

Leah honestly didn't know what to say.

Neither did Jacob

Shapiro wasn't his usual snarky self. He just sat there next to his client, staring out the distance, perhaps to think of a way he could talk his client out of a lengthy sentence. Leah doubted there was anything he could stay—Lauren was a victim of a hit. A very cut-and-dry hit. She didn't even know if Shapiro could work with a manslaughter charge.

Mike, though a little dazed, didn't regret his actions.

Jacob was the first one to break the silence. "Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

Mike shook his head.

"How did you learn about Lauren's... ratting?" Leah asked, wishing she could have worded the question better. But everyone got the message.

"They have eyes and ears everything," Mike said. "Word got around."

"Did she tell you anything?" Jacob asked.

Mike shrugged.

Shapiro jumped in before either detective to provide a follow-up question. "Can we speak outside?"

Leah decided to leave with him.

* * *

"He wants to be put away, but I just can't let that happen like _that_ ," Shapiro told Leah. He looked exhausted, not physically, but mentally. Perhaps emotionally. "I'm not trying to get sued for legal malpractice."

Leah might not have been the lawyer's biggest fan, but she felt for him. He was in a tough spot, and there was nothing she could—she stopped and looked up at the man. "This may be…unprofessional to ask, but I know your rates aren't cheap. Your clients are usually millionaires, billionaires. So, why him?"

Shapiro narrowed his eyes. "Where are you getting with this, Detective?"

"How did he pay for your services?" Leah asked him, trying to convey her attention through her eyes. She wasn't trying to fuck the lawyer over. Weirdly enough, she was going to help him out.

Shapiro caught onto Leah's intentions. Letting out another frustrated yet resigned huff, he had a hand through his hair and said quietly, "Rosalie Hale referred me to him."

Leah tilted her head. "You work for her?"

Shapiro snorted and shook his head. "I work for no one," he declared, and then, "You can't become the top fixer in the country all by yourself. You need a network. She told me that Mike Newton would be charged for kidnapping. That had been the plan: I got him off, Lauren keeps her mouth shut and we all go home happy."

Leah nodded as she digested the information. Seemed like Lauren had "stepped out of line". Of course, she had; Leah hated blaming the victim, but Lauren really had this coming. She cleared her throat. "I get it now," she said. "He had no choice."

"Technically, he did," Shapiro said. "But in reality, not really."

"I'm going to have to talk to our ADA," Leah said. "We can't make deals without him here. I'll let him know that Mike never wants to get out of prison due to fear of his life—"

"Witness protection is out of the question," Shapiro added.

"Prison isn't necessarily safer," Leah reminded the lawyer. "The Cullen's can have someone silence him there. And you know how prison death operates; it's going to get slipped under the rug," and then, "Okay, here's the deal: your client gives us more, and we will make sure he gets what he wants. No questions asked."

"Give you more?" Shapiro scoffed. "What more can you want? He literally _confessed_."

Leah waved dismissively. "Yes, and we will certainly use that confession, but what we need is more information on the Cullen's. In particular, Carlisle and Esme Cullen."

"Carlisle's dead."

"I know that."

Shapiro eyed the detective for a moment, trying to pick her mind, but eventually gave up. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Well, this is an interesting development. Mike Newton rather have the entire kitchen sink thrown at him than spend another night free," Jenks said the following morning after Jacob, Leah, and Embry explained the situation to him. "How's your captain holding up?"

"He hates everyone," Jacob replied. "I just think he needs a vacation."

"Don't we all," Leah mumbled, and then in a clearer voice, "So, you can make something happen?"

"I can make something happen," Jenks confirmed with a nod. "I'm actually in the middle of making a few things happen. I'm working with some people to do something about that Deal. I can't promise the plan will work, but it's about damn time we do something about this. We have three dead humans, a dead informant, countless others dead, all connected to the covens. And I'm sure the feds have far more important things to do than steal our cases because a bunch of cowards runs the Cook County justice system."

Leah never thought she'd hear those words from the prosecutor. Though not always a fan, Jenks usually took the effort in defending his colleagues regarding the Deal.

"So, they're taking the Riley case?" Embry asked.

"They don't want to," Jenks admitted with a sigh. "Like I said, they have better things to do. Other things besides dealing with this vampire mess. Thankfully, the case is cut and dry. Riley was killed because he talked—"

"To me," Leah pointed out; it made her sick just thinking about her role. The guilt was still there. She hadn't done anything wrong, just her job. "He was talking to me."

Jacob patted her shoulder.

"How did that happen—"

"He shot me," Jacob answered for Leah. "Then, Leah shot him. Nothing fatal, completely justified. And to avoid having the Deal screw anything up, we've... unofficially agreed to let that slide if he cooperated."

Leah cleared her throat, realizing that they had probably broken a few rules.

Jenks seemed to believe that as well, but he wasn't alarmed or concerned, just understanding. "It seems that backdoor deals are required to get things done around here," he said. "Now let's talk about the newest murderer in our sights: Mike Newton. What the hell was that?"

"The Cullen's found out about Lauren talking to us," Leah said. "And they told Mike to deal with the problem..."

"So, he did," Jacob finished. "Two shots to the torso. He confessed to the entire thing. His lawyer wants a deal: the worst case scenario is that Mike goes down with murder one. The most likely scenario is murder two."

Jenks nodded. "We shouldn't have an issue with the Deal," he said. "Mike's human. Lauren was human. And we have a confession. The trial may not be necessary, which is ideal. The last thing we need to discuss this drama in front of a jury."

"We're not entirely done with Mike," Embry said. "At the crime scene, we found an uncashed check made out to Lauren for one hundred grand. It was signed by Edward Cullen."

"Also known as Edward Masen," Leah added. 'We assume the check was made to keep Lauren quiet. Maybe she decided to speak to us because she got cold feet."

"Any news from our favorite fixer?"

Leah hadn't spoken to Rosalie Hale in weeks. She had been evasive ever since Emmett had been hand delivered to the ATF. "No."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she had been involved," Jenks said. "Not in the murder, she's smarter than that, but in the bribe. "

"We'll check it out," Leah offered.

Jenks held up a hand and shook his head. "No," he said, expression more serious than ever. " _I'll_ deal with her. Tell your captain that he should expect a word from me soon."

* * *

Jenks visited the station later that night. After exchanging some pleasantries, he headed straight to Paul's office.

Paul was expecting a visit from him.

Leah and Jacob were about to leave for the night. They were waiting for Embry to finish a report, and they would go together, stopping by Quil's before heading to their respective homes.

The detective watched as the stoned-faced yet determine man entered Paul's office; they wondered if they should forgo their departure altogether just in case. They would receive their answer seconds later when Paul started the conversation, loud enough for them to hear. They weren't sure if this had been done on purpose; after all, their desk was close enough to Paul's.

Leah sat down at her desk, picking up some files, trying to look busy. She wasn't known for eavesdropping, but Jenks _had_ informed her and the team about his future visit. And no one had requested Paul's door to be front or his blinds to be drawn.

Jacob followed suit.

" _Assistant District Attorney Jenks,"_ Paul acknowledged when Jenks stepped foot into his office. " _How can I help you on this fine night_?"

 _"I need you to arrest Rosalie Hale."_

Jacob made a noise his throat and looked up from his batch of files, sharing a glance with Leah. Neither had seen this coming. Rosalie Hale, arrested? She _never_ got arrested for anything—she had always been cautious, only working in gray areas.

Paul seemed taken aback. " _For what_?"

" _Conspiracy_."

Paul leaned back his seat. " _To commit what_?"

" _Conspiracy_ ," Jenks repeated, and then, _"I'll explain everything later."_

Jenks was being uncharacteristically evasive, and Paul didn't do well with evasiveness, but the detectives could tell that he wouldn't deny Jenks. Even with his doubts.

" _Fine_ ," Paul said, and then, " _Do you want me to keep her in one of my holding cells?"_

" _Until she makes bail_ ," Jenks said. " _The new judge isn't Sorio, but he knows enough about Rosalie; he's not going to keep her from setting bail_."

 _"How long you're talking?"_

" _You know the law. Can't keep someone without a charge for more than 24 hours,"_ Jenks replied. " _When she's released, call me_."

Paul nodded and not another word was said until Jenks announced he was leaving a minute later. Paul leaned forward; the ADA couldn't leave without giving him some answers. " _Why are you really doing this_?"

" _I need to send a message_ ," Jenks replied, serious. " _I need her in your custody by midnight tonight at the latest. It gives you a few hours. Is that a reasonable time_?"

 _"Consider it done, counselor."_

 _"Thank you, Captain."_

* * *

Three hours later, Rosalie was under the custody of the Chicago Police Department.

According to sources, she hadn't put up a fight.

Leah figured that the fixer knew it wouldn't have been worth it.

For one, the detective was glad the arrest happened late at night. Then, barring something insane happening, nothing was going to get done until the morning. The next day, when her new shift began. But for now, she could go home and rest.

Leah had a sinking feeling that would need all of the rest she could get.

"Your place or your mom's?" Jacob asked Leah as they entered the car. He had offered Leah a ride home, knowing full and well that she wasn't in the mood to hop on the L. She could barely keep her eyes opened.

Leah wanted to say, "yours", but that would have implied something entirely different. Or maybe it wouldn't. It was Jacob; the man, at this moment, who understood her better than anyone with the slight exception of her mother—but she didn't want to go home; it would be too happy and make her mind wander. She didn't want to go to her mother's; she loved her mom and brother, but she wasn't in the mood to deal with their questions. They had seen the recent news, and they knew Leah was involved in the investigation.

"Your couch," she ended up telling him.

Jacob chuckled as he turned the car on. "Don't you think that'll be a hassle?" he asked. He wasn't entirely against the idea, Leah noted. "We gotta work tomorrow."

"I'll bring a change of clothes."

"You really don't to spend the night at home or your mom's?"

Leah shook her head. "Not tonight. I need to just… rest."

"Alright," Jacob said, pulling out of the parking space. "My place then."

"Thanks."


	35. Chapter 34

**Thirty-Four**

* * *

The following morning, Jacob made Leah breakfast.

It wasn't anything grand, but Leah had no complaints, "Thank you for this," she told Jacob softly, adding a genuine smile.

Jacob, sheepish, scratched the back of his neck. "Nothing compared to what you did for me."

"I did that on a Saturday morning," Leah argued, wondering what the big deal was. And anyway, last time's situation had been different; the breakfast had been a part of an apology. "That day, I didn't have to worry about chasing criminals."

Jacob smiled.

"And thanks for letting me stay the night."

"Feeling better?"

Leah nodded.

She was feeling better now than she had in a while.

"I need to move out of that apartment. I'm not even comfortable in my own home," she said to herself, but out loud for Jacob to hear. She didn't mind, though; he knew how she felt about her marital home. "I honestly rather stay in a hotel."

"Yeah, but that's going to screw up your budget," Jacob said. "Aren't you trying to go on vacation soon?"

"Yeah, Vegas, and then the Grand Canyon," Leah confirmed and then, without thinking, "You should come with. Plane tickets are going to be a bitch because its Vegas, but it'll be nice to get out of the Midwest for a bit."

Jacob stared at her for a bit, expression indiscernible, but then he smiled. "You sure Paul won't throw a fit with the both of us gone?"

"He'll live," Leah said. "We have time to get things finalized. I'm not planning to do anything until November."

"What about Sam?"

Leah raised an eyebrow. "What about Sam?"

"Oh, come on, Leah."

"Fuck Sam," Leah declared, earning a surprised look from Jacob. Honestly, she was surprised at herself. "I'm divorcing him, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

* * *

"How long is the Vegas trip going to be?" Jacob would ask Leah hours later, laying back in his seat, completely relaxed.

It was relatively quiet around the station. Most of the teams were out on the streets. Paul didn't have anyone to argue with until the afternoon (his supervisors and Jenks planned to make another visit, most likely about the Rosalie-situation). Embry was out, fetching the detectives' lunch after losing a sports bet. And no one else had died between yesterday afternoon and this morning.

The detectives could actually have a conversation at work about things not relating to _work_.

"Not even a week. A day or two before heading to the Grand Canyon for a day or two," Leah replied. She had done extensive research on this. "They're only a few hours apart."

"So, we can drive from Vegas to the Canyon and then back?"

Leah looked up from her computer screen and grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

"But it can't be the first week in November. That's when the new moon's gonna come. That's the last thing we need, you shifting in the middle of the Vegas Strip."

"I'll be famous then." Leah laughed. "So, mid-November, then." She paused, catching the conflicted expression on her face. For once, she didn't want him to think about the negatives. Just go along with the flow, like what she was trying to do for the sake of her sanity and her blood pressure. But this was Jacob, she was talking about. "You're worried about Sam,"

"I'm going to Vegas with his wife," Jacob said, glancing in all directions as if he expected Sam to pop out of nowhere. "Can you blame me?"

"The Grand Canyon is unassuming," Leah pointed out. Sure, Jacob did have a point, and if this were last year, she wouldn't even consider it, just to avoid the drama. But like she had told her partner earlier that morning—

 _Fuck, Sam._

* * *

"So, which homicide case are we prioritizing?" Embry asked when he returned to the station with two bags of food in his hands. "We are literally dealing with... twenty dead people at the same time."

"Our priority is what has always been our priority," Leah replied. "Jessica Stanley."

"And Gianna," Embry added, hanging Jacob his burgers and Leah her precious steak (with a side of salad). "Since she was there."

"We should get the easy cases out of the way first," Jacob suggested. "Riley Biers-"

"Can't do shit with the Deal in place."

"Jenks is working on it," Leah reminded the cop, opening the food container. She breathed the aroma and let out a satisfied sigh; she was hungry. She was always hungry.

"And Lauren Mallory."

"What is there to investigate?" Embry asked. "Mike spilled his guts."

"He was forced to do it," Jacob said. "Unfortunately for our workload, everything is tied to Jessica Stanley."

"Mike can't get sentenced unless he goes to trial or if he accepts a plea bargain," Leah pointed out. "Both of which don't seem to be happening anytime soon."

"Jenks is working on a bargain that fits everyone's needs," Jacob explained. "Mike's desire to be protected and ours to be prosecuted. But no one is going to accept a plea bargain that put Mike away for life. That ain't happening."

"Even if Mike's put away for life, he's still going to be in danger," Paul said. "He's in danger _now_."

"What about protective custody?" Embry suggested. "Yeah, he's a murderer, but he's also a witness. He knows a lot of shit."

"The judge decides on that," Paul said, sounding doubtful. "I'll reach out to him and Jenks and see what they say. But I can't promise anything. The court wanted Mike put away years ago. Dead or alive."

Paul would end up being right to an extent.

Mike wouldn't be placed in protective custody, per se, but he would be housed in Cook County Jail, in an area set aside for those charged with violent felonies. He would be in solitary confinement, but no one was going to watch him 24/7. In the words of the judge, "There are far more important things to allocate tax payer's money for."

* * *

"You know, there's a bright side to all of this mess: I have a bunch of material for my future tell-all," Embry said the following morning as he entered the car. "I may have enough to write a sequel."

Jacob rolled his eyes.

"You're still doing that?" Leah asked.

"Yes, I am," Embry declared, head held up high. He grinned when Leah chuckled, and Jacob shook his head, playfully. "I mean, how can I not? These series of cases have everything: the supernatural, virtually unsolvable murders, a mob war, conspiracies..."

"You can't mention anything about the vampires though," Leah reminded the younger man. "Unless you make the tell-all fiction."

"Just let us know when you get started," Jacob said, looking at Embry through the rear-view mirror before driving off.

The team was heading to Alistair's. Only one hour before, they had received a call from the infamous "talent scout", requesting their presence. "I have some information that may interest you," he had told Jacob. Jacob had been stunned. Everyone had been stunned because Alistair wasn't the type to speak to the police voluntarily. Something had to be up.

"Why now?" Jacob asked Alistair as soon as the team entered the penthouse. He had made sure that Alistair was well aware that this meeting had been the businessman's idea, not the cops and that this meeting better be worth it. Alistair had promised that it would be.

"Why not now?" Alistair replied with a shrugged. He was relaxed, sitting on his velvet sofa, sipping blood from a champagne glass. "I'm sure the esteemed CPD needs all the help they can get. I'm simply doing my civic duty."

Jacob and Embry gave the man an unconvinced look. Leah stifled a snort. Anyone with common sense knew that Alistair was talking out of his ass.

"What do you have for us?" Jacob asked.

"I heard about Lauren, Jessica's friend," Alistair said, blasé. "A tragedy. Not a surprising one, but a tragedy. My associates couldn't understand, for the life of them, why Mike Newton wanted to keep her alive. If she had died with the ambush, all of this would have been avoided. If she hadn't attended the party, all of this would have been avoided."

It pained Leah to admit this for she hated victim-blaming, but the man had a point.

"She was a human being," Embry reminded him. "No one was going to ignore that."

"Yes, but the ambush wasn't committed by my associates," Alistair argued. "It was by their enemies who would get the blame. To be honest, she shouldn't have been in the lounge in the first place."

Leah strongly agreed.

"What do you have for us?" Jacob asked again; he was clearly not in the mood for Alistair's usual bullshit. "I know you didn't go out of your way and call us in about that."

Leah and Embry waited for an answer.

Alistair bristled for a moment, not appreciating Jacob's tone, but then composed himself. "Trouble's brewing in the Denali household," he said. "Apparently, someone has found incriminating photos involving Irina Denali and the one and only Demetri and sent it straight to Miss Tanya Denali."

"Define incriminating," Jacob said.

Alistair smirked.

* * *

"Are you telling me, that Irina Denali, Tanya's _sister_ , had an affair with Demetri from the goddamn _Volturi_?"

Even now, Leah found the rumor hard to believe. The Olympic coven and the Volturi coven despised each other. They hadn't considered doing business together in over three hundred years. No one would be caught messing around with the other. It was blasphemy.

"Yeah," Jacob said. "That's where we at right now."

"The pics don't lie," Embry said. "Unless they used Photoshop. Wait, do you think they did?"

Leah shrugged. "It looks pretty convincing to me."

Paul shook his head in disbelief. "Well, damn."

"That's what we said," Jacob remarked. "And those pictures are... intense."

"Irina's a freak," Embry added. "All of them are freaks."

Leah rolled her eyes.

"We know technically, this has nothing to do with our investigations," Jacob said, referencing himself, Leah and Embry. "But since you've been hellbent on the destruction of these covens, we thought this was something you should know."

"Why did Alistair tell you this?" Paul asked, grimacing as he examined one of the photos in his hand. "I know it wasn't from the goodness of his heart."

"He didn't really give us an answer," Jacob said. "He wasn't lying... maybe he just wanted to cover his ass."

"Or he knows something's about to pop off and he's giving us a heads up," Embry commented.

Leah nodded, agreeing with the other cops. "Tanya has a reputation of being... explosive in her reactions. I can only imagine what will happen if she finds out about this."

"You think Alistair will tell her?" Paul asked.

Leah shook her head. "Alistair likes to watch the drama unfold while standing from a distance. He's not an instigator."

"So, someone else has to the photos," Paul concluded.

"Most likely," Leah said. "And Alistair must have gotten a tip. He has connections everywhere."

"Of course, we find out about this _after_ Irina made an arrangement to get released early," Paul said, running a hand down his face. "Alright, I'll have one of the teams follow this lead. Hopefully, it's nothing... I wouldn't worry about it, though. You three have enough on your plate."

Leah wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

"Seriously, what was this guy's appeal?" Embry asked when the team was finally allowed to leave Paul's office. "I mean, he wasn't ugly, but he was getting all of the chicks, both human and vampire."

"Jealous?" Jacob taunted.

"Confused, is more like it."

"Maybe it was the bad-boy attraction rearing its ugly head," Leah suggested. Personally, Demetri would never be his type, but he was a looker and apparently, a smooth talker with a lot of money. Of course, he would have a flock of admirers all over him. "I highly doubt it stops with Irina…"

"Tanya is going to flip her shit when she finds out," Embry said. "That lady doesn't play."

"What makes you think she's going to find out?"

"If Alistair knows and felt compelled to tell us that means someone else knows as well," Leah replied. "There has to be a person why this twenty-year-old rumor is coming out of the woodwork _now_."

* * *

"Having a party without me?"

Leah, Jacob, and Embry chuckled as Martinez strolled their way and accepting a can of beer. Technically speaking, they were not allowed to consume alcoholic drinks on police property, but they couldn't find a fuck to give; they were both pulling yet another double-shift. Their superiors could cut them some slack once in a while. "What brings you here, Detective?" Jacob called out. "Don't you have a coven to dismantle?"

"I'm working on it, boss," Martinez said with a wink. He pulled a chair to the table and sat down. They were sitting in the station breakroom, aimlessly watching their coworkers enter and leave the precinct. "I've got some news for you."

Jacob scoffed as he opened his second can of wolfbane-free beer. "Do you, now?"

"You heard about what happened with Mike, right? About what he did?"

"Yeah, he shot Lauren Mallory. Completely confessed," Jacob said, rolling his eyes. "He fears his list so much that he wants life without parole."

"Don't tell me you came all the here to tell us about him," Leah added, narrowing her eyes. She didn't want to talk about Mike. Her attention, at the moment, was on the murder of Riley Biers and how the hell she could bring Victoria and Laurent to justice without causing a shit show—Jenks had vowed that he was working on something involving the Deal, but she was becoming increasingly anxious.

Once Riley's case was out of the way, the team could return their focus to all of the other murders they had on their plate.

Including Gianna Castellano's.

Martinez leaned forward. "Do you know _why_ he killed her?"

"It was a hit," Embry said. "Thankfully, no real investigation is needed. It's an open-and-closed case."

"Are you sure?" Martinez asked.

Jacob eyed the detective. "We already have a confession."

"Yeah, we have _confirmation_ that Lauren's murder had something to with that ambush at Mike's. She was there, and wasn't supposed to make it out alive," Martinez explained, and then, "Oh, and guess who got arrested at JFK?"

"Why should we care about what happened in New York?" Leah asked.

"New York is on the east coast," Jacob said. "We're in the mid-west—JFK is way outside our jurisdiction."

Martinez rolled his eyes. "I know that, Jacob."

"Who got arrested?" Embry asked.

Martinez sat up in his seat and smirked. " _Felix Antonius."_

Jacob nearly snorted his beer through his nose. "From the Volturi?" Martinez nodded. " _No_."

"Oh, yes," Martinez said. "Customs snatched his ass right when he was about to board his plane back to Italy."

"Holy shit," Leah breathed.

"They're bringing him in."

"On what charges?" Embry asked.

"I'm sure Barba's going to throw the book at him."

Jacob finished his beer and scrunched his eyebrows together as he mulled over Martinez's statement. "As in Carolina Barba, the US Attorney for the Eastern District?"

Martinez nodded.

Leah was a bit confused. "They're bringing him _here_?"

"The federal courts in New York don't want to bother with him, I guess," Martinez explained with a shrug. "He's technically our problem, so..."

"And where are they going to keep him at?" Jacob asked. "He's a goddamn leech."

" _That's what I said_ , but apparently, the feds have some super-secret prison _not_ named Alcatraz just for people like him. Don't know anything else besides that," Martinez said. "You should ask your vampire friend more about that. He should know; the ATF were the ones who suggested it."

* * *

Before Leah could leave the station for the night, Aisha, who was also on the night shift, pulled Leah aside before she could leave the station for the day. She led her friend to one of the storage closets, away from everyone. "I'm not supposed to tell you this," she started, looking behind Leah to ensure that the coast was clear. It was. "But I guess with everything going on, who cares about rules?"

"What happened?"

Aisha did another check and then, "Paul's thinking about pulling Sam."

Leah's eyes widened. She would be only lying to herself if she said she hadn't thought about her estranged husband. She had plenty of times, much to her disdain. But for a moment, she had to remind herself of the reason why Sam had been missing in action for months.

"His choice or Sam's?"

"His," Aisha said. "It's getting a little too hot. Especially after what happened to Lauren and Riley... But you know how Sam is, he thinks he can handle it."

Leah sighed. "So, he wants to stay."

"According to him, he has a good case. And the big bosses think he does as well. Paul can submit a recommendation, but it's the commander who signs it."

"You don't think he's going to it?"

Aisha shook her head. "It's all about the numbers. I think they're getting sick and tired of referring cases to the feds. It's the biggest thing we have right now."

Aisha was worried, and she wasn't trying to hide it. Sure, both she and Leah weren't Sam's biggest fans, but no one wanted to see a fellow cop in an adverse situation.

"Thanks for letting me know," Leah said.

* * *

Later that week, Paul's decision to pull Sam was ultimately overruled, and the captain wasn't happy about it.

This was one of the many reasons why Leah would never consider being a captain. Sure, it had the prestige, and the pay increase was pretty decent, but the thought of being responsible for so many people. Goodness, she had enough drama to deal with.

"The situation must be pretty bad if Paul wants to do this," Embry whispered to Leah as they walked from the break-room with mediocre office coffee in their hands (they weren't in the mood to stop by a coffee shop).

"I'm surprised by the boss' decision," Leah said. "The most important thing is the bottom line."

Embry nodded.

Leah wasn't worried about it.

"I guess their justification is that if the feds aren't pulling their guys, then we shouldn't either," Jacob told Leah sometime later. "And apparently, Sam doesn't want to leave now. He thinks he has something big."

"Sam's practical about that stuff," Leah admitted. Yes, he was an asshole, but he was a damn good cop. He tended to make very good decisions, professional-wise.

"Do you have any idea what he's doing?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, but the word is that he's asking for another few months."

Leah frowned. "So, December."

"I know it's not ideal," Jacob said. "But..."

"That's the job."

* * *

"I can't I'm too surprised that he wants to stay," one of the cops would tell Leah the next day, effectively disrupted the detective from her work. "He doesn't want to deal with his wife."

Leah looked up from her computer, eyes on the man standing at the side of the desk and frowned. "Excuse me?"

It seemed the news regarding Sam was spreading around the station like wildfire.

She supposed she couldn't be that surprised. Despite the large numbers of people on the force, it was still a close-knit community. Everyone knew everyone. Secrets didn't bode well in this environment, as evident in the fact that everyone, perhaps even those in the academy, knew what happened between Leah and Sam—but she wished some had the sense to realize that relationship drama was personal and that perhaps talking about such sensitive things within the other's earshot wasn't smart.

However, she understood and accepted that not everyone used common sense. What she couldn't understand was why this man? Moran, was attributing Sam's decision to _her_.

But then again, this was Moran. Admittedly, she never liked the cop, only tolerated his presence because she was a professional. He was one of those good ol' boys. The ones Leah tended to ignore out of fear that she might lash out on them; that was what they would expect from her.

"…putting a good man in danger because you got an issue with him."

Seeing red, Leah stood from her chair and faced the man. " _Excuse_ _me_?"

She just stood there, silent and unmoved, as the man carried on, trying to hold back as her blood boiled. He was making gross accusations, accusing her of things that were certainly not true. He talked about how great of a detective Sam was and how she was driving him away, how she didn't appreciate him—

For a split second, she wondered if there was something wrong with _him_. She had never heard such a defense of her husband's actions from anyone; not his family, not Emily and certainly, not from any of Sam's friends from work.

But the thought escaped her mind when the man took one step forward. She wasn't afraid him, far from it. She was more aggravated, more upset and she swore to god if that man took one more step—

By the grace of every deity under the sun, Jacob, who had been out of the station for the past hour, finally returned and it took just one look between Leah and Moran for him to know that something, rather someone, was about to pop off. He was there before anyone knew it, ready to ask what on earth was happening—Leah had her hands balled into first, and Moran was there, silently taunting her with his smirk and mirth in his eyes.

"Hey, you wanna hit me?" Moran mocked, puffing out his chest. He didn't seem to understand that Leah wasn't fucking around. She would knock the shit out of him and not stopped. "Go right ahead."

Actually, she wanted to show that man what she was made if, but Jacob, ever the pacifist, gave her one look and she held back.

So, Leah stood behind Jacob as he confronted the man, her fists still clenched. She was seething like never before before, feeling worse now than during that dreaded December night… she couldn't explain it. All she wanted to do was rip the cop into shreds.

Moran wasn't backing off. "Look, I know she's your partner and all, but…we're one man down because of _her_." He pointed at her. "We need all the help we—"

"He's undercover," Jacob tried to reason with him, becoming increasingly annoyed. "Shit like this happens all the time. What the hell's blaming her gonna do?"

"I'm only stating the truth," Moran said, looking around for anyone to defend him. Unfortunately, not many people were around and out of those, only a couple were paying attention to the commotion, including Aisha who gave him the finger when he looked her way.

"Go to Hell," Leah bit out.

Now, Moran was seeing red, not that he could do anything with a guy almost twice his size blocking him. But he did try to convey his anger through his eyes. "Why you—"

"Apologize to her," Jacob demanded, staring Moran down. "Then fuck off."

* * *

"Hey, you okay?"

Leah looked up at her partner; tears were forming in her eyes as she tried to compose herself inside the storage closet. "I wanted to kill him," she admitted, horrified. She could still _feel_ the rage boiling inside of her. She had never been the homicidal kind; even after all these years, she wasn't entirely comfortable with having a weapon on waist all the time. "I wanted to skin him _alive_."

"Well, yeah, we wouldn't want that…"

"I'm not an angry person," Leah insisted; rumors be damned. "The only people I'd ever wanted to attack, truly, were Sam and Emily, but even then, I wasn't going to do shit. I wasn't going to pull the fucking trigger."

"Moran is an asshole."

She was glad Jacob fell the same about him, but his words did almost nothing to her anger. She thought about pushing past him, but she knew that she would get far. Jacob could easily hold her back, and it would be for the best.

"I'm used to the taunts. Been dealing with them for all of my life. Both personal and professional," Leah carried on, shaking her head, trying to understand why she was still so angry. Her emotions had been going haywire lately, just like her appetite. "I've always ignored them. Tell myself that it wasn't worth—"

She wanted to pull her hair out. She wanted to bolt out of the closet and haunt Moran _down_.

"Hey, look at me," Jacob quietly demanded. He cupped her face with both hands, forcing Leah's to meet his gaze. "He's an asshole," he said, shaking his head before glaring at the closet door. Leah wanted to believe that he was glaring at Moran. "He shouldn't have said those words to you."

Moran shouldn't have, and Leah should have brushed them off… but those words _stung_. Fifteen minutes and those words still ran through her mind. She tried to ignore that side of her, the one that agreed with Moran. Maybe her attitude did drive him away. Perhaps if she were a better wife, he wouldn't have been with Emily. He wouldn't have accepted that undercover mission, and he wouldn't have asked for an extension—She tried her darnedest to fight those thoughts.

Leah began to choke up, and before she knew it, she started crying. "He said I didn't deserve Sam—"

Jacob pulled her into a hug. "He doesn't deserve you."

Leah cried harder.

"Emily doesn't deserve you," he continued, holding her closer to his body. He didn't want to let her go. "You are an amazing, incredible woman, Leah. One day, I hope you truly see that."

Leah took a deep breath, and then another one. Soon enough, her breathing matched his.

"Paul will hear about this," Jacob vowed, loosening his hold around his partner. "He's the captain. Let him dish out the punishment. He doesn't have any tolerance for that shit. Especially now with everything happening. We don't need people like that asshole."

Fuck, she needed just to let _go._ Run free. Do anything to release the tension that plagued her.

"I'm looking forward to it," she quietly said.

"You're good now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Jacob nodded, believing Leah enough for them to leave the closet and back to the office space. If Moran was smart—Leah wasn't betting on it—he would have gotten out of dodge, but he was still there. However, this time, he was keeping his distance, avoiding making eye contact with the detectives.

Good for his ass.

* * *

"You almost phased," Jacob told her sometime later during the ride home. "Just one more push from Moran, and then it would've been all over."

Leah knew it could happen. It was one of the results—the main one—of being bitter. But she couldn't imagine what it would be like to _phase_. "What?"

"I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't come when I did, we would be having a completely different conversation," Jacob continued. "Don't worry about it, though. The anger, the increase of emotion at times, it happened to all of us in the beginning. It's just the hormones going haywire."

Leah had been feeling… emotional, as of late.

Her gaze dropped her lap.

"That explains a lot…"

"I'm not saying this to say that how you felt wasn't justified," Jacob said. "Because it is wasn't for the possibility of an assault charge that not even Paul can make disappear, I would've fucked him up."

"I could've done it myself," Leah replied, fighting a chuckle. "I was ready."

Jasper flashed her a lopsided grin. "Then my turn would've been after."

For the first time in a very long time, Leah's smile reached her eyes.

It was then when she realized the truth about Jacob. She had been worried for the past few weeks about him changing, but in truth, he hadn't— The fact was Jacob's behavior hadn't changed. He had always been like this. Before the bite and after the bite. Always looking out for her, always _him_. The only difference was that now, Leah could feel his emotions, even the ones he tried to mask.

"Your place or mine?"

"Huh?" Leah was thrown off by the question. Those words could have meant something _entirely_ different in another context. But she knew what Jacob had meant. "Oh, mine. I'm paying enough for rent. I should _attempt_ to become more comfortable in my bed."

"That's the spirit," Jacob said, making a wide turn. "Your place, it is."

* * *

 _Brrrriiinngg._

Leah wanted to ignore it. She wanted to believe that she could block out the noise by hugging and burying her face in it. It didn't help; her damn phone kept on ringing.

Defeated, she let out a groan, reached out for her damn phone and slid a finger across the screen to accept the call, not bothering to check who was on the other line. "What?"

"Nice."

Leah slowly sat up in bed. It was Jacob, and he was calling— she checked the digital clock on her bed-stand—at 12:05 am. "Who died now?" she grumbled, sliding back down her bed, closing her eyes. She fully expected to fall back asleep while still on the phone. The man would understand.

"Be ready in thirty," Jacob said, sounding completely wide awake. That asshole. "And wear gym clothes."

" _Fuck you_ ," Leah groaned, ready to hang up the phone, but couldn't find any actual reason to do so. She hated to admit it, especially at this time of the night, but it was nice hearing Jacob's voice outside of the usual work-related conversations. "Why?"

"We're going on a run."

When Leah entered Jacob's car twenty minutes later, she made sure to express her displeasure that being woken in the middle of the night. Notably, a work night. Jacob did try to seem apologetic, but the man was easy to read. Much easier to read since the bite, Leah realized. She didn't know how she felt about that- they literally couldn't lie to each other.

"Unfortunately, I highly doubt the public would appreciate seeing a pack of over-sized wolves when the sun's out," Jacob said, trying to hide his amused smile as Leah grumbled at him. "I'm not trying to have us become a government experiment."

"I still don't approve of this."

"You'll get used it."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Is that your answer to all of my complaints?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Jacob replied, chuckling until Leah punched him on the shoulder; it didn't exactly hurt him, but he did whine about it. "Ow, violence."

"You're fine," Leah said. "And that's what you get for waking me up at this time."

"You'll feel better when you get to Sag Valley. You'll feel better when you get to work in several hours. Running... I don't know, gives us a shit ton of endorphins."

Leah sat up in her seat, her inquisitive gaze on her partner as he drove away. "Explain."

"You know how normal dog needs to be walked every day. Or needs to run around in an open field? It's like that. I mean, we don't have to do it that many times. Three times a week should be fine unless it's new moon week. Then we go more often."

"So, the moon is important."

"We're not werewolves or the children of the moon. We don't need the moon to transform. Technically—"

"I do."

"Yeah, for your first time," Jacob clarified. "But then after that, you shift when you want to. When your instincts want to...which is going to take getting used to. Because you know, it can have a mind of its own."

"How does the moon affect us, then?"

"It's..." Jacob was having a tough time trying to explain it. Perhaps Leah would only know the answer, truly, when experienced it. "You know what they say about the full moon? Lunatics. High tides. I don't know how to explain it. It just does _something_ to us."

* * *

The forest, as expected, was deserted. Not a car or a person in sight. The park was technically closed at sundown, safe for the areas designated for camping. But according to Jacob, the state had made an under-the-table deal with its supernatural population; as long as the general population didn't have a fit, they were free to roam.

Leah wondered how many of these "deals" existed throughout the country. Throughout the world.

This wasn't her first time at Sag Valley. Throughout her childhood, Harry would take the family along for some good, ol' fashion camping, but never overnight. She remembered the area being peaceful during the day, but now, in the middle of the night. It was a scene right out of a horror movie.

Leah wasn't exactly afraid; thankfully, she had a few wolves. But there was no light save for the crescent moon high above and the distant city lights. When she had asked Jacob if she should bring a flashlight, he had said no.

"How's your vision?" he had asked.

"Perfect. Never needed glasses."

"How's your vision now?"

Leah never paid much attention to the changes to her vision. Her focus was solely on the most apparent changes: her sense of smell, hearing, and taste, her increased strength and endurance.

But now, as she stared into the darkness of the words, she realized that she was staring into complete darkness. She could trace out of the shapes, make out some of the minute traces of light. The colors weren't as discernable, but she could handle that.

It seemed that she wouldn't need a flashlight after all.

"Where's everybody?" Leah asked.

"They'll come."

And they did.

Ten minutes later, the gang—Embry, Paul, and Quil— was there.

"C'mon," Jacob said, buckling his seat and exited the car.

Leah did the same.

She was nervous but intrigued about this "run". From the way Jacob made it sound, going on runs were an essential part of being a wolf. Admittedly, he didn't know how it would affect someone who hadn't phased yet (Paul had phased almost immediately after getting bitten; the timing of the moon had been convenient), but he insisted that it could do her some good.

Leah wanted to go back to bed, but she trusted Jacob. He hadn't steered her wrong yet.

"Jared couldn't make it tonight," Embry said after everyone exchanged their usual greetings. He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. "He finally convinced someone to spend the night with him. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Atta boy," Paul cheered.

"TMI," Jacob told Embry, but he couldn't hide his smile.

Leah looked among the men, a little confused. She knew that Jared was a shapeshifter—if she hadn't known before the raid, she sure knew now. But no one had mentioned about him being a part of the part.

Quil sensing Leah's confusion explained that, "Jared's technically a lone wolf. It's a long story, but Jared's an honorary member because Jacob likes to take in strays."

Jacob crossed his arms and pouted. "I do _not_ take in strays."

Embry and Paul laughed.

"If that's what you want to believe," Quil said, laughing when Jacob gave him the finger. "He usually tags along."

Leah nodded and then asked, "So, how does this work?"

It took a minute for the guys, sans Jacob, to realize that Leah was tagging along on the run. Leah didn't think it was a big deal; Jacob hadn't made it seem like it was a big deal.

Paul eyed Leah. "You've phased already?"

Leah shook her head.

Paul blinked and then asked Jacob. "She can't—you're good with this?"

Embry and Quil exchanged looks.

Leah crossed her arms.

"It's fine," Jacob insisted, waving dismissively. He didn't seem too concerned about Leah's presence, which was pretty uncharacteristic of him. "She needs to unwind. We _all_ need to unwind."

Quil and Embry nodded in agreement.

"I'm just going to slow you all down," Leah said.

"Not you won't," Jacob said, staring Leah down she wouldn't argue with him.

"We move as a pack, leaving no behind."

"Not even you," Quil said with a smile.

"Yep," Embry added.

"Make sure you can keep up. We do have a deadline to meet," Paul taunted Leah with a wink. He let out a hearty laugh when Leah gave him the finger.

"Dude, she can win a freaking marathon," Embry argued. "I've seen it with my own eyes. She's probably faster than all of us."

"I appreciate your faith in me, Embry," Leah said, giving Paul a stink eye. "Hey, I'll be fine. I guess. I've been doing well so far."

"She has a point," Quil said. "A very good point."

"We're not leaving you behind," Jacob assured Leah. "Not even Paul."

Leah was grateful.

"But uh, Leah… how do you feel about nudity?" Embry asked, raising an eyebrow. There was a shit-eating grin on his face, which dropped the moment the cop noticed Jacob's glare. He threw up his hands in defense.

Leah hadn't expected that question. "Excuse me?"

Paul and Quil exchanged amused looks. "Shut up, Embry."

"What? It's a good question!" Embry said. "Our clothes don't stay on when we phased."

Leah's eyes slightly widened.

 _Oh_ , she hadn't thought about that. She hadn't thought about it at all. Clothing was a necessity, but not in wolf-form; that was what all that fur was for. And the wolves weren't standard size. Based on the couple of times Leah had seen Jacob's wolf, they were huge.

"It's not a big deal," Jacob said, now narrowing his eyes at Embry. This was not the conversation he wanted to have. Thankfully, Embry seemed to have gotten the point. "Don't make it a big deal."

"It's fine," Leah insisted with a shrug. She knew a bunch of ladies (and some guys) would love to be in her position right now. The guys were attractive; there was no way around it. "Really."

If she could handle the number of dead bodies and crime scenes that she had the lovely fortune of viewing since January, she could handle seeing a bunch of guys—one but one being her coworkers—in their buff.

Jacob clapped. "Alright, you guys, we have to be back in Chicago by three. Unfortunately, we have to get to work in the morning."

"And I'm not accepting lateness," Paul announced; it was directed to Embry. "Except from Leah, and only because this is her first time doing this. Got it?"

"C'mon," Jacob ordered. "Let's get this show on the road."

She looked away as they discarded their clothes, focusing a random news story on her phone. Her attention returned to the guys at the sound of— she didn't know how to explain it— but there they were, all transformed. All wolves. Goodness, it had taken seconds.

Leah stared at them, frozen, breathless to the point that her phone slipped out of her hands. She had been used to seeing Jacob, but this...

She brought a hand to her mouth and breathed out, "Oh my god..."

Leah remained still as the wolves approached her, careful yet friendly. She had to suppress the urge to pet them all, feeling that she wouldn't stop if she did (they couldn't be out here forever, after all). She was surprised, she supposed, enough for her heartbeat to speed up. But she wasn't afraid, far from it. Awed was more like it. She was surrounded by four massive wolves, all distinct enough that she could tell who was who.

As soon as Leah's heart rate eventually returned to normal, they relaxed and began to move around.

Soon, Paul was taunting Embry by charging at the smaller wolf only to stop inches from his face; Embry did the same and not long after that, they were engaging in what Leah could only guess a wolf-version of an argument. Quil was trying to fight an itch on his shoulder. Leah decided to give him some relief by scratching the area for him, earning the closest thing to a purr she had ever heard from a canine.

Jacob was trying to round everyone up, namely Paul and Embry, who seemed moments away from engaging in a friendly fight. Quil was ready to go. And Leah, she felt a rush of excitement, eager to get moving as soon as the guys were.

Jacob growled, finally catching each other's attention. He pointed to the forest behind him with his nose. The rest of the wolves squared up as Leah bent down to tighten her shoelaces.

And then they took off.


	36. Chapter 35

**Thirty-Five**

* * *

Last night's run… Leah didn't know how to explain _it,_ how she felt as she rushed through the woods, surrounded by the rest of the part. But there was one thing for certain: there was a huge difference between running along the shore of Lake Michigan during the day and running through a deserted forest in the middle of the night.

Both enjoyable, but Sag Valley… _damn_.

It was because of the run that Leah didn't dread heading to work hours later. She wasn't exhausted even as she was running on less than three hours of sleep. Quite the opposite; she had woken up feeling like she had downed two bottles of Red Bull and that 5-hour energy drinks _without_ the side effects.

It was _amazing_.

"When are we going again?" Leah asked as she waited for her order. She was splurging this morning: besides the usual cup of coffee (needed today out of an addictive habit, not out of necessity), she had ordered three steak and egg sandwiches. Three—Jacob was impressed.

"You enjoyed it?"

"I felt free," Leah admitted. She felt loose. The usual work and personal-related stress were there, but it didn't plague her mind as much as it often did. "Just like you said I would."

"Sometimes, I do know what I'm talking about," Jacob said with a wink, and then, "Not tonight though. Paul and Jared are pulling a double and Quil gotta prep his bar for the Bears' home-opener Sunday."

"It takes him two days to prep?" Leah asked, grabbing her food from the counter.

"There's gonna be a lot of eager Bears fans," Jacob said, leading Leah out of the restaurant and then, "How about Sunday night? It'll be after the game. Everyone should be free then."

"You make the plans," Leah said, patting Jacob's shoulder. "I just follow them."

* * *

The rest of the morning was normal. Everyone was doing their usual work without much interruption. The covens and their affiliates seemed to be laying low today. The feds were still questioning Felix and other unlucky Volturi members caught by US Customs agents; the other Volturi were missing in action, most likely in Moldova, as rumored.

The police weren't done with the Volturi, but there wasn't _much_ anyone could do until they came back.

The only important update of the day didn't concern vampires: Collin and the Night Fangs had apparently headed off to St. Louis in the morning and would remain there into things calmed down—a couple of their guys were in police custody, waiting for sentences. Thanks to their cooperation, most would get off somewhat easy: weapon possession and assault charges were better than multiple murder-two one's.

And, like anyone could forget, Rosalie had been recently arrested and then released.

Just how everyone suspected.

"Hey, Black, Uley and Call, in the conversation room in five," Paul announced as he walked past them to head to his office. "We have a special guest."

The special guest ended up being Rosalie Hale.

And she was _not_ happy.

"You had me arrested for conspiracy," she accused everyone, namely Paul and Jenks. The usual pleasantries hadn't been exchanged; Rosalie had no time or patience for it. She seemed out for blood, but more subtly. If Leah hadn't known the woman, she would have been scared. "What is the meaning of this?"

This conversation was solely between Jenks and Rosalie; the others, simply an audience, could interject but only if they needed to. Rosalie was ready to go to head with the captain and the prosecutor. She didn't have a lawyer with her for she planned to represent herself. Generally, doing so wasn't the wisest idea, but this was Rosalie. She could handle it.

"I'm sure you heard about Lauren Mallory. Now, I may not know the circumstances behind her untimely death, but I'm sure there is a connection to the ambush at your client's party. And I can't imagine your people being happy about her talking to the feds."

Rosalie bristled. "I am not a member of a criminal organization."

"No, but your client is," Paul said.

"I am _personally_ not a member of a—"

"Calm down, Miss Hale," Jenks said. "I do not intend to charge you with anything. I had you arrested because I needed to get your attention."

Rosalie was offended. "Congratulations, counselor," she snapped, closely her arms, scowling deeply. "You certainly have _my_ attention."

"Good."

"What do you want, counselor?"

"Hours after I threatened to speak to the feds about your client's role in Lauren Mallory's disappearance, she was found. Alive and well," Jenks said. "I know you have something to do with it. Knowing you, you cut a deal with her. You offered her money for her silence."

"Really?"

Smirking, Paul reached into his desk, pulled out Lauren's check and handed it to Rosalie. Usually, he wouldn't handle evidence in such a manner, but even if the fixer decided to rip it up, he had already made authenticated copies of it.

Rosalie glanced down at the check—her expression immediately turned from absolute annoyance to worry, and then back to irritation. For the first time in years, it seemed like she couldn't think of a question or a good comeback.

Jenks reveled at the silence. "This was found on the table inside Lauren's apartment."

"My name isn't on that check," Rosalie said.

"No," Paul said, "But your client's is."

"My client was Carlisle Cullen," Rosalie pointed out. "He died a few weeks ago."

Jenks raised an eyebrow. "You don't work for him anymore?"

"It's kind of hard to work for a _dead_ person, counselor."

Jenks snorted and reworded his question. "You don't work for his family anymore?"

"I cannot confirm nor deny..."

"Ms. Hale, did you make a deal with Lauren Mallory?" Paul asked.

"I gave her an option. A realistic option—it was to help her out," Rosalie explained. "What she chose to do was her prerogative."

Jenks frowned. Rosalie wasn't helping his case at all. She wasn't giving him any new information. "Your deceased client signed this check. Was he trying to bribe Lauren for her silence?"

Rosalie continued to stare at the check. "I am not sure," she said. "Maybe it was a settlement, just in case Lauren tried to bring the family to court over what happened at Mike's Bar."

"You don't know?" Jenks found that hard to believe. "Wasn't he a client or yours?"

"What is your point?"

"Ms. Hale, this is not the time to play games."

Rosalie handed the check back to Paul. "I am a fixer; I only know what I need to know. Carlisle didn't need to tell me everything," she insisted, and then asked, "What is all of this really about?"

"Do you have any idea about why Lauren was killed?" Paul asked.

"I supposed she was killed because she knew too much. Maybe someone believed she would testify in court—I don't know. All I do know is that if my client wanted her dead, he wouldn't have offered her all of that money—now, whether that money was for Lauren's silence or just a settlement is up to interpretation. But considering that my client is now dead, we will never know the truth, will we?"

Leah leaned back her in the seat and listened carefully. Rosalie was protecting Edward, but why? Sure, she was technically her legal representation, but it seemed that she favored the old boss over the new.

"You have a point," Jenks admitted with a shrug.

Leah didn't know if Rosalie knew that they were playing with her.

Rosalie rose from her seat. "According to the press, Mike Newton is a prime suspect," Rosalie carried on. "He confessed to the murder even before questions were asked. He said that it was his decision."

"You know, and I know that Mike Newton didn't make that decision all by himself," Jenks said. He noticed the aggravated look on the fixer's face. "You can't harm him, Ms. Hale; he's under protective custody."

Rosalie tried to compose herself. "Will my charges be dropped?"

"Sure."

"Am I free to leave?"

"Sure."

"Thank you, counselor, and for the record, I did not want Lauren dead. Her murder is literally the last thing I need right now."

"I don't doubt that," Paul said. "Have a good day, Ms. Hale. Officer Call will be leading you out."

Embry escorted Rosalie out of the office.

Jenks would only say for a minute longer before leaving himself, seemingly satisfied.

"He got what he wanted?" Jacob asked.

Paul nodded. "He got what he wanted," he confirmed. "The great Rosalie Hale is rattled. Rattled people make mistakes. I'm sure she's going to mention to her friends about this."

"She's hell-bent on protecting Edward," Leah said.

"No shit."

"Bring him in for questioning?" Jacob asked. "We know he forced Mike into killing Lauren."

"Remember what happened the last time?" Paul shook his head. "It was essentially a wash. What we need is hardcore evidence. It's great that Mike is talking and all, but we need more than _that_. Any of you guys got a plan?"

Leah and Jacob exchanged looks.

Jacob didn't seem to have anything.

Leah crossed her arms and dropped her head, deep in thought. There _had_ to be something they could do, something could use as evidence. Everything they had was essentially hearsay and unconfirmed rumors (and a slew of lawyers who had no problems ripping the police department into shreds). But Paul was right. They needed something admissible in court. They needed—

"I got an idea."

* * *

"Thank you for reaching out to me about this," Jenks told the trio, standing inside his office sometime later. "Honestly, it's something we should've done months ago. I apologize for not bringing it up then or even when I was at the station earlier."

"In everyone's defense, we've all been pretty busy," Leah said, getting some affirmation from Jacob on her right and Embry on her left. "So, can we make this happen?"

The glint in Jenks' eyes told Leah that they could.

"Alright, so here's the deal," Jenks began. "Thanks to House Bill 185, a court order is no longer required to do a wiretap. As long as we have probable cause and a string of violent felonies you have to investigate..."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem," Jacob said. "That shouldn't be a problem _at all_."

Jenks nodded and carried on, "As you all know, "The approved wiretap cannot last for more than 24 consecutive hours, and a written record of said wiretap must be submitted to the court within one business, following the expiration of said wiretap."

"Sounds good to us," Jacob said, checking for any objections from Leah or Embry.

They had none.

"Good. If you want more time, you will have to submit another justification," Jenks said. "But judging on how our favorite criminals are acting, that shouldn't be too hard. Any questions?"

No one had one.

* * *

"Seriously, why didn't we think of this before?"

"We did, sort of," Jacob said, getting the equipment ready. They were inside their trusted "spy van" (as Embry would call it), parked about two miles from their target in Gold Coast. They were far enough for the vampires not to detect them, even via scent). "This is just more involved. Thanks for the suggestion, Leah."

Leah responded with a smile. She was admittedly excited; this was the first time listening to a wire directly. "Let's hope we get something."

"We will," Jacob promised. "We will."

The trio had received a tip from Benjamin, who still was working undercover somehow unscathed, that there would be some action happening in the Cullen House tonight: Rosalie was visiting and Jacob and Irina were scheduled to arrive soon.

"We got Rosalie Hale," Leah announced as she heard the fixer's faint voice over the speakers. "Mark this as pertinent. I'm pretty sure this conversation is about to get interesting."

* * *

"With all due respect, you're a goddamn fool," Rosalie said.

Edward made a sound in his throat, and then, "Consider yourself lucky you're a dear friend…"

"The only reason why I'm here is because I'm such a _dear friend_. If you were anyone else, I would have dropped you as a client the moment I heard the news," Rosalie said. "Did you know he was going to kill Lauren?"

"No," Edward curtly replied. "I only wanted him to fix the problem he started. Lauren Mallory reportedly had spoken to the feds about what happened at Mike's.

"The feds? Even if that was the case, how could you allow him to off a potential witness? _The one you'd just paid off?_ Edward, you just became the head of the Cullen's, the Olympic coven; you cannot afford another run-in with the law. Both locally and federally."

"Don't you think I know that," Edward snapped, and then stopped to take a deep breath before continuing. "Rosalie, I didn't think he was going to kill the girl."

"You told Mike to fix the problem. Oh, come on, Edward, you've been in his business long enough to know what _that_ implies."

Edward let out a frustrated sigh. "I didn't think he was going to kill her," he repeated.

"What did you think he was going to do, Edward? _Talk_ _to_ _her_?"

"Not kill her," Edward insisted. "I know why you're mad, but I can't understand why you are so worried. So, Lauren is gone. She had no redeeming qualities, and Mike has already confessed…"

"You're not worried?"

"What is there to be worried about?" Edward asked. "The cops already have a confession, so Jenks should be happy."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. Mike Newton talking—you know they're going to try to offer him the best plea bargain they can come up with?"

"And what good will that do? Yeah, he may be able to get out of prison early, but what life is he going to live? His business is gone. His family hates him, and there are plenty of people who are out to get him. If I were him, I would rather stay in prison. Don't worry, Rosalie; he's not going to talk."

"What if he does?"

"Rosalie—"

"It is important that we look at this situation from all angles. We need to take into account all scenarios," Rosalie quickly added. "What if he talks? He can pin you for solicitation, among other things."

"Then, I will personally handle it."

"Oh, I sure hope you do," Rosalie said. "I don't want to sound paranoid, but you had better pray that Mike didn't bring your name up during the interrogation."

"Would it matter if he did?" Edward asked. "According to all vital records, I've been dead for almost a century. They can't hunt down a dead person."

"If we were dealing with any other police department, I would have agreed with you, but this is Chicago. They know about vampires—"

"And how would they be able to incarcerate our people?" Edward quickly shot back. "Wasn't that the reason Barba had allowed Jasper and Irene to leave on bail without a fight? Because of what they could possibly to the human inmates? Speaking of Jasper and Irina, when should I be expecting them?"

"They should be released later this afternoon."

"I'm having Emilio pick them up, along with their lawyers. We will discuss further actions in my apartment—You're welcomed to come, although, I don't think it's advisable, given the fact that Mike may mention your name to the cops.

"You need to be more optimistic, Rosalie."

"I am optimistic, thank you. I wouldn't be in this profession if I wasn't."

* * *

"Either Edward's lying to Rosalie or Mike is lying to us," Embry said.

"I suggest the former," Leah said. "Mike quite literally has nothing to lose. He's a dead man either way."

Jacob agreed. "Edward values Rosalie's loyalty. He doesn't want to jeopardize this by admitting his involvement. It seems that Rosalie really wanted Lauren to escape."

Leah nodded. Despite her affiliations, Rosalie didn't have to do what she did for Lauren. She wanted the young woman to return to her hometown and stay the hell away from Chicago. She had everything arranged, but Lauren didn't take heed to the warning.

Again, Leah wasn't the one to victim blame, but Lauren had completely misjudged the situation and paid for it.—Leah turned turn the dial on the recorder so that she could listen to another channel, coming from the foyer of the home. That was where Esme, Tanya, and Carmen stood, waiting for Jasper and Irina's arrival.

She pressed the speakers closer to her ear and listened as she could hear a car pulling it to the house.

"It must be them," Leah said.

* * *

"They're here," Esme announced, opening the door. Carmen clapped while Tanya remained silent. "Let's give them a warm welcome, okay?" she suggested to the Denali's before greeting both guests. "It's so nice to see you."

Based on the tone in her voice, Esme's focus seemed to be more on Jasper.

"I haven't seen you in ages. I have a right to pinch your adorable cheeks. Has anyone ever told you that you have them? Because you certainly do," Esme said. "I'm glad you're home, Jasper."

"You and me both," Jasper said. "How's Edward?"

"Always worrying about your brother," Esme said affectionately. "He's fine. Considering. I don't think he had expected to take over things so soon."

"Yes, Carlisle's death was a shock."

There was a pause, and then, "Indeed…"

* * *

"She did it," Embry declared. "I don't even have to see her face. She's not being sincere."

Jacob nodded.

That's what I've been telling everyone, Leah thought before returning her attention to what she could hear over the headphones. There was some shuffling, probably Esme leading Jasper further into the house. She could pick up some female-sounding voices growing faint in the background.

"Is Tanya okay?" Jasper asked. "I expected a much better welcome from her. I know she wasn't too happy about Irina being arrested..."

"I think she's a bit under the weather," Esme said. "I heard that she's trying to be a vegetarian... It's not working too well."

"Oh, I see."

"Speaking of being under the weather... you look like you need tons of blood."

Esme ordered someone to fetch the best human blood they could find.

"Mrs. Cullen, I appreciate your concern, but it's not necessary."

"Of course, it is. You're like a son to me. Of course, I need to make sure you're alright, especially after being in jail for so long."

"It was only for a few weeks."

"Semantics." She ordered him to sit down. "Look at you; you look absolutely ghastly."

"Of course, I do," Jasper quietly joked. "I'm a vampire."

Esme let out a soft chuckle. "Well, more ghastly than usual. Drink up, now."

"I'm already dead, Mrs. Cullen," Jasper said, and then, thank you."

"No need to thank me, dear."

* * *

"Wait a minute: I'm confused," Paul said the following morning after Leah, Jacob, and Embry gave him a summary of what they had heard the afternoon before. "I thought we were only getting the wire to obtain evidence of _Edward's_ involvement in _Lauren's_ murder? Not Esme's involvement in Jessica's murder?"

"Does it matter what murder is it?" Leah asked. "They're all connected."

"We're working on Mike. Edward denies all involvement, which of course, no one believes," Jacob told Paul. "The Esme conversation just happened to fall on laps."

"We don't have the evidence against any of them," Paul grumbled.

"We have probable cause to arrest Esme," Embry contested. "Captain, listen to the recording. Esme clearly killed her husband."

"Why should we arrest her, only for her to be let go hours later?" Paul replied, shaking his head. "Listen, I get it: she did it. We know that, but until we have _concrete_ evidence. Hard enough for me to tell the higher powers to shove it and the Deal up their asses, we can't touch her."

Leah's eyes widened—oh, she didn't know it was like _that_. Sure, she knew Esme had some very powerful people on her side. But from the way Paul made it sound, she was more untouchable than Edward. Than some of the members of the Volturi.

"For murder one," Jacob said, not giving up. "What about everything else?"

"What, that she's a part of the Cullen family? Of course, she is. She was married to Carlisle Cullen," Paul replied, growing more frustrated. Not at the cops in front of him, but the entire situation. "No one is giving her up. Her lawyer has everyone shook, ready to sue the department in a blink of an eye—"

Embry jumped in. "She's clearly making power moves."

"Do we have concrete, _admissible_ evidence of that?" Paul asked.

Embry dropped his head. "No."

"The feds aren't even looking into her," Leah pointed out.

"Their focus is the Volturi—"

"Who's chilling in Mol-freaking-dova," Jacob said. "A country with no extradition treaty with the United States."

"So, we can't do anything?" Leah asked Paul. "Is that what you're telling us? To just, on paper, accept that Esme had nothing to do with Jessica's murder. That Demetri had killed her?

"Well, he _did_ ," Paul stressed, and then, "Get me something on Edward, please. I need to have someone in handcuffs. Preferably soon. And then, we can work on Esme."

"Thank you all for being here this afternoon," Edward began the following evening. "It's been a while since we have been able to be in the same room without the justice department breathing down our necks. We should toast to that."

"And before I forgot, I want to especially thank you, Ms. Rosalie Hale, for taking the time out of your oppressively busy schedule to attend this meeting."

"It's no problem. I'm always happy to help."

"I was under the impression that this meeting was about _family affairs_ ," Tanya said. "Shouldn't only members of the Denali and Cullen families be in this room?... No offense, Ms. Hale."

Rosalie didn't reply.

"Tanya, although Rosalie isn't officially a member of the Cullen's, she still plays an important role in the family," he explained.

His explanation didn't satisfy Tanya, who decided to spark a little argument about the subject

"As important as the topic of my role in the Cullen family might be, shouldn't we discuss more pressing matters like, for instance, the recent changes to the family leadership and Jasper and Irina's case?"

"You're absolutely right, Rosalie." Edward slammed his hand down on his desk. "Let's get started officially—so, as all of you know, there have been changes to the Cullen's since the ATF raid back in May: Carlisle is unfortunately dead…"

"May he rest in peace," Jasper muttered. "I thought he would be able to pull through."

"We all did," Tanya said.

"Yes, but we will talk about that when Jasper and Irina's case is over—Moving on, Carlisle has entrusted me with leading the coven from now on, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep the family together… And the alliance between the Cullen's and the Denali's."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"In terms of our business, nothing will change. We will maintain all contracts and all obligations, but we won't take in any more vendors or buyers," Edward said. "Our focus needs to be on Jasper and Irina's case. Thankfully, Rosalie has been on top of the cause, and with her help, I'm sure we'll be able to get through this obstacle on top. Right, Rosalie?"

"Of course," Rosalie said.

"Great!" Edward clapped. "What do you have for us?"

"As you all know, Jasper and Irina's trial is set for one month from now. The good news is that none of you are being charged for murder or the transportation of illegal contraband," Rosalie said. "The bullets found at the ATF raid did not belong to you, and you were not involved with the selling of said bullets. But you are being charged for conspiracy, attempted murder, battery, and possession of a deadly weapon…"

The list kept going on and on.

"How much time are we talking? For Emmett, too?"

"It depends," Rosalie said honestly. "It could be life or could be less than twenty-five. It depends on the prosecutor."

"Who's prosecuting their case?" Edward asked.

"Carolina Barba."

"Shit."

"Can't you find a way to get a special prosecutor?"

"We don't exactly have the legal justification for doing so," Rosalie replied.

"She's going to be a problem," Edward said.

"That is an understatement," Rosalie said.

"Why don't we just kill her?" Tanya suggested like it was the most obvious thing to do. "It would make our lives so much easier. She can't prosecutor anyone if she's buried six-feet under."

"Tanya isn't wrong," Edward explained to everyone. "When threatening someone doesn't work, killing them is an option. But I've been in the game for many years, and I know that offing someone doesn't always solve the actual problem," Edward explained to everyone. "Carolina's been subjected to threats for years, but all it has done was more justification for the arrest warrants. Knowing Carolina, she probably considers any attempt on her life as a testament to her dedication to the job."

Everyone was silent.

"Killing Carolina isn't a short-term solution," Edward concluded. "Let alone a long-term one."

"So, if not kill her, what should we do?" Tanya asked. "We can't just sit here and let her ruin everything."

"We won't have to," Rosalie said. She had a plan; it wasn't going to be popular, but it was the safest one she could think of, short of fleeing the country. She had just realized what game Carolina Barba was playing. "I know this doesn't sound like a good idea, but I'm going to need to you all to trust me on this one..."

"Of course, we trust you," Jasper said. "You haven't failed us yet."

"Thank you, Jasper—I think it would be wise for you to accept the charges and the best plea deal Barba can offer. Go to prison for some years and then live your lives."

" _What_?" Irina exclaimed.

"You want Jasper and Irina to turn themselves in?" Edward asked, surprised. "Just like that?"

"This is bullshit!" Tanya exclaimed, leaping out of her chair. Irina and Carmen had to coax her back into her seat. "Complete, absolute bullshit!"

"Rosalie, explain," Edward demanded.

"Turning yourselves will make appear compliant," Rosalie explained. "And if I know Barba as well I do, she can be very generous with plea bargains if you cooperate."

"She wants to put us away forever," Irina pointed out.

"Not with these current charges, she doesn't," Rosalie said. "Neither of you are being charged with murder. Neither of you is getting life. If Carolina wanted to, she could find a way to slap murder charges on the both of you."

"And how would you know that?" Tanya snapped. "Did you have a conversation with the bitch?"

" _Tanya_ ," Carmen chided.

"What, Carmen?" Tanya snapped. " _She is a bitch_. She's been trying to bring us down for years."

"She's a federal prosecutor," Rosalie reminded Tanya. "It's her job to try to bring you down, and to answer your previous question: no, I didn't have a conversation with her. I didn't have to; I'm well aware of her reputation and her intentions."

"So, even if that is the case, Rosalie, why would Carolina, of all people, want to ensure that Jasper and Irina have lighter sentences?" Edward asked.

"She's obviously holding out to offer a plea bargain," Rosalie explained. "She wants Jasper and Irina to talk in place of a longer sentence. Your families aren't the only ones the feds are after. I know they're not too thrilled about the Volturi's escape. They have Felix, but he's not the big boss, and without an extradition treaty with Moldova, the feds can't force the government to give the coven up."

"I thought they were in Volterra?" Carmen asked.

"They were, but then they decided to move to a county that isn't obligated to extradite anyone wanted by the US government," Rosalie explained. "Moldova."

"Rosalie has a point, Boss," Jasper jumped in. "From all of the interviews, I gather her issue isn't with us, exactly—well, at least not as much as it should be. She's not too fond of us, but she does seem determined to destroy the Volturi legally—"

"Which is precisely why I think it's wise to cooperate with her," Rosalie stressed. "She's not dumb. She's not going to have you guys go to trial. Trial means having a jury and Carolina knows the danger of discussing the details of the case in front of the general population..."

"So, she wants us to be rats," Edward said.

"Yes, and no. She doesn't want to talk about our families. She wants to know about the Volturi and Victoria's coven. It's not ratting if you're spilling information about your enemy."

"Turning ourselves in would give her everything she wants," Irina still contested. Sure, Rosalie's explanation sounded plausible, but it was a considerable risk.

"Unless you all want to flee to Iran or another country the US doesn't have an extradition treaty with, this is the best offer we have," Rosalie told everyone.

"We're not fleeing," Edward sternly decided. "Okay, this is what's going to happen. We're going to see what deal Barba can offer and then, and only then if it's worth it, Jasper and Irina will take the plea." He continued before Irina could protest. "If she doesn't offer anything advantageous, we will have to resort to drastic measures. How does that sound, Tanya?"

"I would rather kill her right now, but I suppose that I can't find much fault in your plan," Tanya said. "Though I don't like the thought of giving up Jasper and… Irina."

"Good to hear. Meeting adjourned," Edward announced. "We will definitely keep in touch. Jasper and Rosalie, if you don't mind, can you both stay behind for a few minutes?"

What's going on between Tanya and Irina?" Edward wondered moments later.

"So, you've noticed as well..." Jasper said.

"It was hard not to."

"Maybe they had a disagreement?" she suggested.

"They haven't seen each other in over two weeks," Edward pointed out. "Maybe it's not serious. Maybe you're right, Rose; it's probably a sibling spat."

"Has she told you anything?" Rosalie asked.

"She doesn't tell me everything," Edward said, regrettably. "But you seem to be as in the dark about the issue as I am, so I can guess that it doesn't impact the court case. But I didn't ask you two to stay back just to talk about Tanya…."

"What will happen when I eventually go to prison?" Jasper quickly asked. "Being that I'm your number two?"

"We'll discuss that when the time comes," Edward said. "I'll still have Emmett in charge of security. Lord knows we need all the help we can get in that area. Although the Volturi is more or less out of the picture as of now, we still have enemies."

"Like Victoria."

"Like Victoria," Edward agreed. "But like I mentioned before, we'll handle her when this case is over. We have enough issues to deal with for now… Rosalie, be honest, is there anything we can do to get Carolina off our backs?"

"Unless you flee, like I said, but I don't think you would want to do that. If you leave, Victoria's coven and her allies will take Chicago."

"She's right," Jasper muttered. "Look, Irina and I will just take the best plea."

"If they take the plea, what will their sentence look like?"

"Most likely less than twenty-five," Rosalie said. "If Carolina likes what she hears, we might be able to get them out in less than ten."

"It's better than life," Jasper said.

"It's better than life," Rosalie agreed.

"I'll think about it," Edward decided. "I'll let you know by the end of the week."

"It seems that it's time for me to go. Duty calls—I'll catch up with you later." She exchanged her goodbyes with Edward and Jasper and left the room.

"It's a damn shame she's not a part of the coven," Jasper mused moments later. "Her presence would have been instrumental."

"Rosalie wants no part of the coven," Edward said. "If Emmett couldn't convince her to join, what makes you think I can?"

"You sell yourself short, boss."

"Nah, I consider myself to be a realist."

"Of course."

* * *

"This shit is gold," Embry said, removing his headphones.

The wire had ended.

"Doesn't say much about Mike though," Leah admitted.

"They just threatened a federal prosecutor's life," Embry said, flailing his hands. He looked to Jacob for some affirmation.

"Edward talked her off the ledge…somewhat," Jacob said, and then, "No, but you're right. This is good. They're weighing their options. They knew we and the feds are onto them."

"And that Jasper's Edward's number two," Leah added. "And the fact that Edward's considering making a deal with prosecutors."

"The feds will be happy," Jacob said. "With Edward put away, they can now focus on the Volturi."

"But Edward's one man," Leah argued. "Someone can easily take his place."

That was what she was always afraid of.


	37. Chapter 36

**Thirty-Six**

* * *

It happened because it could _happen_. It came with the territory of being a cop. Being a cop in a major city. Being an undercover cop, in general. Most of the time, one would expect to last for twenty years before retiring with their pension; it had been wishful thinking, the light at the end of the long, treacherous time.

But sometimes, it didn't work out. One could make all of the future decisions they wanted, but could never battle against fate. It wasn't fair, then again, life tended not to be.

Jacob was standing next to her, only speaking when he knew Leah wanted it. She appreciated his consideration, his presence, his insistence that he was here to make sure Leah was okay. She would reach that point. Eventually, she vowed to herself.

She could go inside the room; she had every right to, given that according to the law, she was still Sam's wife. But she preferred to watch from afar, even if it was just the other side of the wall; she could keep an eye on him, she reasoned, through the window and the pulled back curtains. She could maintain her distance unless Sam asked for otherwise. Which given the man's unconscious state, it would not happen anytime soon.

Oh, Sam...

All she wanted was a divorce from him, not _this_.

Leah glanced down to see her hands trembling. She supposed she was still at the denial stage of grief, perhaps at the tail end. She looked back up, eyes locked on her comatose husband. "He saw this coming," she softly said.

He had seen it coming back in the spring. He had called Leah about it, during his last night as a free-cop. Leah had only brushed it off as nerves, telling him that everything would be okay— _fuck_ , she felt like shit.

She took a deep breath and just stared, feeling Jacob's concerned eyes on her.

"What?"

"He told me... some time back. He called me about having this nightmare," Leah explained, fumbling with her fingers. Her shoulders had dropped, defeated. "He was worried about the mission. Of course, he didn't actually say that, but I could tell. And I told him that everything would work out."

"This isn't your fault."

Leah slightly frowned; those were the exact words she expected to hear from her partner. "I know, but it doesn't make me feel any better. It's just this fucking job; it only brings tragedy to my—"

"Leah..."

"My dad died a week after my tenth birthday. Two weeks after getting promoted to captain," Leah pressed on. It was a memory she would rather forget, even after all these years. But was still there. "Put a gun to his mouth."

She glanced up at Jacob. His face didn't convey much, but she could tell by his breathing, that... she didn't know how to explain it. But then again, she wasn't sure if she was telling this story to _him_. It was just something she needed to get off her chest.

Leah sighed, and carried on, "One day he was there, laughing with us, smiling, and the next... gone, and I _still_ don't know why. He didn't leave a suicide note."

"Jesus..."

"My mom refused to accept it. She thought it had to have been an accident or murder. He was a cop. Of course, the department was going to investigate it thoroughly... and the verdict still ended up being the same. Self-inflicted gunshot."

"When I told my mom I wanted to be a detective, she had a breakdown. Didn't talk to me for almost a week; that was a couple of days after I graduated from college... by the time Seth told her he wanted to do the same, I think she just gave up." Leah dropped her gaze. "I think she thinks Seth and I are going to suffer the same fate as my dad... Seth... he says he wants to join to do some good. Help the public out, but I just can't picture him in a uniform. But maybe that's just me, still seeing Seth as a little, carefree boy."

"It's like bad things happen to my family when we become a cop—first, my dad, then me, almost dying, and now, Sam." She took a deep breath. "What would happen to Seth?"

"I don't want to sound insensitive, Leah," Jacob said. "But shit happens. I don't think it has anything about joining the force, it's just that life's a bitch." He sighed. "Plus, Sam's not dead."

"He has a bullet in his head, Jacob. He's in a coma, Jacob," Leah said. "He's not coming back from this."

"Then why don't you take him out of his misery and pull the plug?"

Leah stared up at her partner, speechless. The thought had never crossed her mind. She had never seen herself doing this, despite her feelings towards him and his actions. She didn't want to kill him.

"You hear his heart beating?" Jacob asked.

"You know I can."

"Then he still has a chance."

Leah appreciated Jacob's optimism, but she could only think of the worst.

The man had been shot in the head. Leah thought he couldn't come back from this, but then again, stranger things could happen. Have happened. After all, she was still alive and breathing and in better physical shape than she had ever been.

Leah's gaze dropped to the tiled floor. There was thought in her mind that wouldn't go away—She wanted to ask him. She wanted to ask him so badly, but he, not once, made any reference about it. With her, he hadn't hesitated. But with Sam, he had made no effort.

 _She_ couldn't do anything. Her bite would probably just shorten her husband's road to death.

"Leah..."

"Jacob."

"Just give me the word, and I'll do it."

Leah knew he would. The fire in his eyes told her that she would. But she could tell. Maybe, by the way his heart beat, that this wouldn't be his decision. He had never been too fond of the man, even before meeting Leah.

"It's not your job to turn every person at the brink of death."

"Just give me the word," Jacob repeated, rubbing his forehead. "You've been thinking about it. Now, _I_ can't stop thinking about it."

"It's not my place—"

"You're his wife, aren't you? You can go right to his doctor, right now, and request to take Sam off of life support. No one would even bat an eye," Jacob said. "Or do you just want to leave him alone."

"I want to leave him alone."

* * *

No one gave her the usual shit about Sam.

 _It's about damn time_ , she thought.

She just wished it wasn't because of Sam. She wished it was because all of the people she worked with were mature. Only here to work.

"It doesn't work that way," Jacob told her. "Only in a perfect world would that happen. People can be assholes."

Leah knew that. "They're not now," she said. "Maybe that'll change once Sam gets better."

"Maybe."

* * *

Leah was never close to her in-laws.

In everyone's defense, the distance didn't help. Leah was from Chicago with family in Washington. The entire Uley clan was down in Texas.

Leah harbored no ill-feelings towards her in-laws even with her marriage coming to a close. Her in-laws were private, respectful people. They were always welcoming when necessary — always trying to coax their only child down to Laredo. It had taken them years to accept that their son wanted to stay in Chicago.

Leah wondered how they felt about it now, especially the woman standing next to her. Her mother-in-law, Allison Uley. Contrary to popular belief, there wasn't much tension between the two women; their focus was only one man who was lying comatose on the hospital bed.

"Will you be staying the night again, Mrs. Uley?" the nurse asked as she walked out of Sam's room. She had just checked his vitals and gave him his medicine.

Leah was Sam's wife. It made sense to stay behind, even for a couple of days. But Leah just couldn't. One moment she would try over him, and the next, she might actually pull the plug out of rage. "No," she said, glancing at her mother in law.

She didn't want the woman to think that she was some… bitch.

It was just for the best.

"I'll stay with him," Allison told the nurse. "Someone should be there with him."

Leah spoke up, "Allison-"

"It's fine," Allison insisted, smiling at her. "You're a very busy woman, and he's my son. I should there."

The nurse looked between Leah and Allison and shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"I can stay," Leah offered as the nurse walked away. She didn't want Allison to think less of her. "It's not a problem."

Allison shook her head. "I think you'd do this city and Sam a favor if you find out who did this to my baby," she said. "Don't worry about it, Leah. I'll be fine." She checked her wristwatch. "You should go. Your lunch will be up soon."

* * *

Emily came the following day.

Leah didn't want her to be _here_ , but she didn't have the heart to call on security and have her cousin whisked away. They were at a hospital, a public hospital. Emily wasn't a threat to Sam's safety. Annoying, but not a threat. And plus, he was the father of her unborn child.

Sue told her that it was a boy.

When Emily reached Sam's room, she quickly greeted Leah (wisely not hugging her as she had done in the past) and Allison before asking, quite frantically about Sam. She had learned about the man's condition via Sue—the petty side of Leah wished her mother hadn't said anything, but the more rational part was glad she had.

Allison didn't care for Emily—no, she didn't know Emily enough to care. They had met a few times, usually during Clearwater-Uley gatherings, exchanged the usual pleasantries and engaged in the general small talk. Allison didn't think much of the younger woman.

Which, in Leah's opinion, made this visit a bit easier.

Leah allowed Emily into Sam's room, allowed her to see him, speak to him, do whatever she pleased. Emily was grateful, but was smart enough to keep any communication between her and Leah to a bare minimum—Leah had threatened a restraining order in the past; although she never requested one, it seemed that Emily got the point.

Thank goodness.

"I didn't realize Emily was so close to my son," Allison remarked, watching Emily as she held Sam's hand into hers, caressing it. She even leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead- that earned a look of pure bewilderment on the older woman's face. She looked at Leah, who tried to remain as stone-faced as possible. "Leah, what is the meaning of this?"

Leah sighed. This was not the time nor the place to discuss Sam's relationship drama. But Emily wasn't backing down, and Allison wasn't going to let this go.

"They are, you know," Leah said, trying to find the right words. "This."

"You're not making any sense."

Oh shit, Leah realized with horror, Sam had never told his parents about Emily. Only about the divorce.

Of course, he _didn't_.

"She's the reason why we're ending things," Leah admitted. She could have thought of a better response. A better lie. Something that could postpone the fireworks until after Sam woke up. But Allison, though never close with Leah, had always been unproblematic. Leah didn't want to lie to her.

Except that Allison thought Leah was lying to her. Or pulling a terrible, cruel joke.

When Leah told her that in fact, she wasn't lying, Allison didn't fall out. She didn't scream or try to drag Emily off of her son. She was shocked, but she didn't present the typical symptoms of being shocked. She was seemingly calm and collected, just standing there, staring at her son and his lover through the glass window.

"She's pregnant," Allison stated after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

"It's his."

Allison raised an eyebrow. "I thought he didn't want any children?"

"I thought so, too," Leah replied quietly, glancing through the transparent window. Her gaze fixed on Emily's protruding belly. "From all accounts, it was an accident."

"She's far along."

"Due next month."

"That idiot," Allison said, shaking her head. "That idiot." She turned her attention to Leah. Her features soften, sympathetic, wishing she had the right words to tell her future ex-daughter-in-law. "When he told me about the divorce, about you asking for one, admittedly, I did not have any kind words for you. And for that, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I love my son. He's my world, but he can be so..."

"Obtuse?"

Allison nodded. "It's for the best," she said.

Allison would never know how grateful Leah was for those words. Allison was Sam's mother, so naturally, she would take her son's side. She didn't have any obligations to her daughter-in-law. She could push Leah away, accuse her of ruining her son. But she didn't.

"Thank you," Leah said sincerely.

"I suppose I should formally introduce myself to her," Allison would say moments later, eyes still glued to the window. Emily was now rubbing Sam's hand around her belly, smiling down at him, whispering sweet nothings. Allison was indifferent to the sight. "Since I'll be dealing with her for the next eighteen years," and then, "Tell me: is it serious?"

Leah shrugged.

She didn't even think Sam and Emily knew if it was. Honest to god, she hoped they figured out soon. She wanted them to be in love with each other; she wanted them to work things out, commit to an actual relationship. Because if you were going to fuck up a marriage and ruin family dynamics, you better make it worth it.

She hoped they couldn't breathe with each other. _Live_ without each other.

It would make her feel so much better.

"She's your cousin," Allison stated, her expression a bit perplexed. She was trying to wrap her head around the revelation. "And she's carrying your husband's child…"

Leah nodded.

She didn't want to talk about this.

Thankfully, Allison sensed her daughter-in-law's discomfort and switched topics. "Joshua sends his hello. He's coming later. He wanted to come earlier, but his flight from Colombia was delayed due to a storm. He should be back tomorrow."

Leah nodded.

"An investigation is open?"

Leah nodded.

"So, this wasn't an accident."

Leah shook her head. "Most likely not."

"Details?"

"Can't give you," Leah said. "I'll let you know as soon as the information can be made public. Everything right now is sensitive… you know how it is."

Allison gave Leah a half-smile and nodded. "Yes, my husband was in the army, fought in the Gulf War." She nodded again. "I know how it is."

* * *

Aisha stayed with her that night.

Leah hadn't needed to ask.

Aisha just _showed_ up with some much-needed food and wine. When Leah informed her that she appreciated the gesture, but couldn't exactly get drunk off her wolf-bane-free alcohol, Aisha, that saint, had managed to get some.

Leah had no intention of getting drunk. After all, she had work tomorrow. Paul had told her that she didn't need to come in the next day, but Leah needed work. She needed to get her mind off of everything.

"I don't know how he's still alive. I don't know how _you_ are still alive. It seems that you both have angels looking over you," Aisha said, pouring herself a glass. She didn't have the highest opinion of him because of the whole Emily-situation, but for right now, he wasn't the estranged husband of a dear friend. He was just a cop, a coworker.

Leah felt the same way.

"In my case, Jacob just happened to come along at the time."

"Yeah, well, I stand by what I said."

"What happened?"

Technically, it wasn't her business. Undercover assignments were a touchy subject. But she figured everyone was going to find out sooner or later. Paul had already assigned Martinez to the investigation and Martinez had no issue discussing things with Leah—but Leah wanted to know now.

"The purge," Aisha said. "Many of the recruits are being interrogated and killed off. They think someone talked, which they did, but…"

"Whom did he work for?"

"Maria."

"Oh."

"Paul didn't want him to get involved with the Cullen's and the Volturi," Aisha explained. "It wouldn't have worked because we've been after them for so long. But Maria—she's only been in the area for a few years, laying low enough for us not to go after her."

"I see."

"Paul wanted someone to infiltrate the cartel to learn more about the UV's. Maria's people got a buyer out in Romania who transports the goods to Mexico, and then they bring them to the US. The ATF's trying to rain on their parade, but it's not been working out. Word on the street is that the Velasquez coven has ties to numerous cartels down in Mexico."

"Of course, it does."

"I don't think anyone knew how big this case was going to be. We all thought that we could use Jessica's murder to bring down the Cullen's and the Volturi. But this, right now, it's way bigger than us."

"And then, you still have the corruption investigation."

"My Lord, so much shit's been going on lately. I forgot we're being investigated for corruption," Aisha said, holding the glass to her chest. "At this rate, we may have a Netflix documentary by the end of the next year."

* * *

"As if this year couldn't get any crazier," Martinez said the next morning, shaking his head as he pulled up a chair. "I know you and Sam have your issues, but how are you?"

"I'm fine," Leah insisted, and then, admittedly, "I wanted to divorce the man, not have him take a shot to the head."

"Yeah, I know," Martinez said. "Paul assigned me to the case. I have some of my guys out there; hopefully, we can figure something out soon. I'll keep you posted."

"Thank you, Edwin."

* * *

Leah visited the Office of the Medical Examiner later that week. For the first time, it had nothing to do with the murder cases in her docket. At least, not directly.

Bella was surprised to see Leah standing at the door to her office.

Sans Jacob.

The women exchanged greetings

"I heard about what happened," Bella said, placing some reports to the side. "You're here for Sam?"

Bella's words weren't comforting; Leah didn't expect them. The relationship between the two women was strained, but professional, at best— it is, what it is—Leah should have been offended, but all she felt was a relief.

She was fucking tired of all of the apologies, the empty condolences, and offerings. Sam had gotten shot; he was now in a coma. She knew _that_ , and she didn't need to be reminded of _that_ every single goddamn she turned around.

Maybe, it was her being selfish.

Maybe, this was a coping mechanism.

Fuck it, she didn't know what it was.

Leah nodded. "Yes."

"How is he?"

"Hasn't woken up yet," Leah said. She was here, inside Bella's office, because she wanted to hear another perspective from a medical professional. It wasn't that she didn't trust the hospital doctors; they were fine, adequate... she just wanted more answers. A second opinion.

She retrieved the folded-up copies of Sam's medical records and handed it to Bella.

Bella skimmed through the pages, not conveying much emotion; she appeared exhausted. "Vegetative state is a finicky thing," she admitted. "Even with all of the medical advancements of today, we still don't know everything about being in a coma. Sometimes people wake up; sometimes they don't..."

Leah nodded. The words stung, but there were honest.

Bella eyed the detective and sighed. "I don't think that was what you wanted to hear."

"It's not."

"But if it gives you any solace, it's a miracle that Sam survived," Bella tried. "Two bullets to the head and still breathing? A guardian angel must've been by his side."

None of Bella's words satisfied Leah. "So, there's nothing else you can tell me?"

Bella shook her hand and handed back the pages. "His vitals are fine, considering. Now, we need his brain to wake up. You should consult with his doctor."

Leah nodded again and rose from her chair. "Thank you, Bella."

"Anytime."

* * *

Out of all of the members of the Voldemort taskforce, only Paul, as the captain, and Aisha, as Sam's keeper was invited to the emergency meeting on Friday morning. Not that it exactly mattered. Everyone knew what was going on because Paul's voice increased in volume when he was generally pissed off. And he was _beyond_ pissed off today.

Jacob, Leah, and Embry were at their desks, trying to listen along while appearing like they were working; everyone else did the same thing. (Jared had offered to put a bug inside Paul's office, but the idea though satisfying, was quickly shut down. This was _not_ the time to get on Paul's bad side).

The deputy chief was the first person to ask the most important question of the day, _"How the hell did this happen?"_

 _"There have been reports of a purge happening with all of the covens and even the other supernatural gangs,"_ Aisha explained. It made sense for her to speak up. She was Sam's handler. She knew more about the investigation than anyone else. _"I suppose the events of the tunnel raids spooked them… a few of our sources have been recently killed in the same—"_

The deputy chief didn't like Aisha's answer. _"How the hell did this happen?"_

Aisha was becoming frustrated. Like she wanted to tell the actual truth, tell who was really to blame, but she held her tongue. She was important, yes, but she had the lowest rank in the room _. "He was shot—"_

The deputy chief brushed the detective and turned his sights onto Paul. " _Captain_?"

" _I told you this was going to happen_ ," Paul simply replied. It was probably the most inflammatory thing the captain had ever said to his superiors. But Leah knew that he quite literally had no more fucks to give. _"I told you all that this was to happen, but everyone thought it would be fine_."

" _Are you implying that it's our fault?"_

 _"I told you this was going to happen,"_ Paul reiterated. He must have known that the deputy chief and the chief were fuming. His commander, his direct supervisor, remained quiet; the decision to keep Sam wasn't his or Paul's.

" _Paul_ —"

" _Captain_ ," the commander interjected. _"Tell us what we can do to make this unfortunate situation better."_

The commander was trying to appease Paul who, based on the uptick in his anger, was about five seconds away from tossing his computer out of the window (Jacob made a point to devise a plan just in case Paul's wolf felt inspired).

 _"You can start by getting rid of the Deal."_

The chief sighed. " _Paul_ —"

" _No_. _This unit was created after the shitshow that was Saint Patrick's to crack down on supernatural crimes, but how can we do anything with that goddamn Deal hovering over our heads? We literally can't do shit,"_ Paul argued. _"And now because we can't arrest anyone without getting chewed out, I got injured cops, dead witnesses, dead informants, covens running around like they're immune to the law, outside gangs who was ready to take over the city and now, as of last night—an undercover cop in a coma."_

 _"This job was never going to be easy,"_ the deputy chief tried to reason.

But Paul wasn't hearing any of it. _"You and the other bosses either do something about the Deal, or I'm done."_

The commander became extremely alarmed. " _Captain, what are you—"_

" _I'm_ _gone_ ," Paul repeated, and he wasn't playing. He had tried to retire right after the tunnel-raid-gone-wrong. _"I'm sick and tired of this bullshit. I'm here to make sure we get as many criminals off the Chicago streets as possible. Species, be damned. Get it done or find another goddamn captain."_

* * *

"They're not gonna let him walk," Jacob whispered to Leah and Embry as practically everyone watched the "higher powers" walk from Paul's office. They all had grave looks on their faces. Except for Jenks, he seemed relieved. But that was most likely because he was the only person in that office that Paul hadn't screamed at.

"I didn't realize he had that much power," Leah whispered back.

"He's the only one who could handle this unit," Embry said. "Even the bad guys respect his authority. You know, at first, the Cullen's though he was a Chief. Not a deputy, but a _Chief_. That means a lot."

"Well, then, I hate to say this, but… maybe what happened to Sam is a blessing in disguise for the task force," Leah said, though she wished she didn't voice it. She wished Sam wasn't in this state. But at least, this was Jacob and Embry; they would understand where Leah was coming from.

And the guys agreed with Leah. "

It's either the Deal or Paul," Jacob said. "I doubt they'll scrap the whole thing in one swoop. Maybe make amendments. Maybe the whole thing over. Just as long as the public doesn't know about it."

"One of these days, they are."

Jacob nodded. "Hopefully, when we're all long gone."

Leah couldn't disagree with that.

"They all can collectively fuck themselves," Paul told the entire office once the higher rank men got into their cars and left. "This is going to be the last time we're going to be held back because of that Deal. If they are criminals—I don't give a damn if they're vampires, shapeshifters, humans or whatever—we're getting them. Got it?"

No one was stupid enough to argue with him.

" _Good_."


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

* * *

Jacob ended up not giving Sam the bite.

"It wouldn't have been worth it," Leah had told him, watching her husband's still form from the other side of the glass window. It had been days after Jacob had made the offer; he truly hadn't wanted to do it. At least, not personally. But Leah knew that if she had agreed to it, he would have done it in a drop of a dime. "The doctors say he'll recover eventually. We're just waiting for him to wake up."

Two weeks later, Sam was still in a coma and was still considered "stable".

Leah visited him when she could, usually after work, more to make sure he was still breathing. From time to time, she'd consider speaking to the man, but she could never voice the things she wanted to say. She didn't even know what she wanted to tell Sam— that could be left to his friends, his family, and Emily.

Whose baby was due in a matter of weeks.

The baby. She had thought by now; she would fully digest the whole thing. She would get over it and move on, but... a baby.

"She's expecting soon, isn't she?" Allison asked as she handed Leah a cup of tea. It was seven in the evening, about an hour since Jacob dropped Leah off at the hospital following the end of their workday.

Leah planned to say for a bit before heading home. She refused to spend the night over; she didn't think her emotions (and stress) could handle it. "Yeah," she said before taking a sip of her tea. "Thanks for this."

"You looked you needed it," Allison said before taking a sip of her tea. She glanced at her son and let out a sigh. "I hope he wakes up before then."

"Me, too," Leah admitted. It was hard seeing him like this. "There's hope. The doctors say that he's doing fine, relatively speaking and—"

"He loves you, you know."

Leah sighed, exasperatedly at her mother-in-law's words. " _Allison_."

"It's true," Allison insisted, but there was no fight behind her words. It was as if she, herself, wanted to believe that Sam was in love with his wife like he should be. "He just does stupid things."

Allison wasn't being malicious in pulling on Leah's heartstrings. She was trying to rationalize everything. Leah understood it; Sam was Allison's son. She loved him dearly despite everything.

But Leah didn't want to hear about Sam's supposed feelings towards her. If he loved her, really loved her, then he wouldn't have pulled all of this shit.

"It's over," Leah said with such finality that there was no room to suggest otherwise.

Allison was a bit disappointed, but not surprised. "I understand," she said. "Like I said before: didn't think much of you when Sam told me the news, but now, knowing the truth, I completely understand."

Leah stared at her mother-in-law. Ah, she now understood. She didn't want Leah to leave; she wanted the couple to work things out. But Leah was passed that point; she had been over it ever since she found out about Emily's pregnancy. It would have been just too much on her emotions, especially in her line of work.

She'd like to live a personal life without much drama, thank you.

"Of course, she wants you to stay," Aisha would tell her the following morning during an afternoon coffee-run. "She doesn't hate you, and her son is currently out of commission. A divorce is the last thing she wants to hear, not that she can make a decision."

Her friend was right, but, "He's in a coma."

Aisha eyed Leah. "Are you having second thoughts about your marriage?"

Absolutely not. Leah was going to charge right through this, come Hell or high water.

"I wanted to be done with everything by the end of the year," Leah said. "I just want it to be over. And now, with everything going on and— wouldn't pursuing _this_ while Sam's like _that_ make me a bitch?"

"Not, at all," Aisha insisted. "You'd be amazed how much marriages end after a serious accident or illness. It's the stress that screws everything up. No one would judge you… at least, not more than they already are. The marriage was done even before Sam went on that assignment."

* * *

Maria (and two of her bodyguards) was arrested early Wednesday morning.

The higher powers of the Chicago Police Department weren't too thrilled about the clear violation of the Deal, but as Paul had mentioned previously, "I can give two fucks about what those fucks think."

The fact that he hadn't been disciplined or censored was amazing to Leah, but she supposed his threat of resigning scared the higher powers enough to let him off the hook. And it wasn't like he was doing anything illegal; Maria and her people had been behind Sam's attempted murder. Of course, they should be apprehended.

"We may have to give this case to the feds," Martinez admitted to Leah, Jacob, Embry, and Aisha. "As how much as I hate it, it looks like we don't have any other choice."

"I get it," Aisha said. "We don't exactly have the facilities to hold two of the most dangerous vampires in the city." She snorted. "Imagine putting them in Cook County."

Everyone let out a dry laugh.

"Can we get them on trafficking charges?" Leah asked. "Paul was targeting them because of the UV's."

Martinez nodded. "Yeah, but like I said, Illinois, the state, can't hold them. They're going to have to get transferred to—"

"Alcatraz?" Jacob offered.

Martinez shook his head. "Word on the street there's a facility out West that goes beyond a supermax."

Everyone exchanged looks.

"How is that possible?" Leah asked. "It's a federal prison?"

"Apparently so, but like I said: word on the street."

"Did they give a reason?" Aisha asked. "Was it because of the purge?"

"No one is talking, as expected, but most likely. Here's the thing though, he didn't fuck up necessarily. They had no idea they were trying to off a cop. They're not dumb. They knew what the Deal said."

* * *

"The full moon's coming up," Leah informed Jacob one morning as they were finishing up their reports. "Next week."

Jacob glanced at Leah from behind the computer screen and let out a nervous chuckle. "Don't remind me."

"Oh, it's not going to be that bad," Leah insisted. At least, she hoped it wouldn't be. Paul had said the first time sucked, but then again, first time for anything usually sucked. That was nothing new. "If Paul can handle it, so can I."

"You'll be fine."

"So, where does it happen?" Leah asked. "Do we go to our usual running-place?"

Jacob nodded. "Can't do it at your place. Then we'll be on the news for sure." He stopped, probably feeling the nerves rolling off her Leah, and said, "After the first time, it gets easier. I promise. Trust me on this."

"I usually do," Leah said. Her thought process shifted gears when a particular unexpected scent of a person hit her nose. Jacob noticed as well.

Leah turned around. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened at the sight of one of the most fearless people she had ever known make a beeline to Paul's office. Without bodyguards.

"Shouldn't the Marshals be with her?" she asked, keeping on an eye on the U.S. Attorney, Carolina Barba, as she greeted Paul and Jenks. "I lost count on the number of hits on her head."

"Pretty sure she has, too," Jacob said. "Something must have come up if she's here. Hopefully, it's something good."

The detectives would be able to find out if they chose to eavesdrop. Leah had been working on tuning out conversations she was not a part of, but Carolina was here.

It wasn't her fault she was so curious.

Anyway, if Paul hadn't wanted her to hear anything, she reasoned, he wouldn't have chosen his office to have this meeting.

* * *

"I heard you caused a stir, captain," Carolina said as she sat down. Jenks sat down next to her, acknowledging the captain in front of him with a slight nod. "You've must be doing one hell of a job if the superintendent is shaking in his boots."

"Nothing's official," Paul said, being surprisingly humble.

He was _never_ humble.

"Well, considering you're still the captain of this unit and therefore, haven't been disciplined for voicing her opinion to your superiors in a _passionate_ manner, I think otherwise."

"Thanks, but—"

"I don't want to sound presumptuous," Jenks interjected. "But what happened _now_?"

Carolina let out a light laugh. "Calm your nerves, counselor. I actually have some good news for you. I wanted to tell you both at the same time."

"Define good," Paul said.

"Barring any extenuating circumstances, Sorio will be arrested today on federal charges relating to public corruption," Carolina said. "And his arraignment will be scheduled for the end of the week."

"Oh, fuck."

"I cannot believe—" Jenks paused, then continued his train of thought. "Not to sound ungrateful because trust me, I am far from it, but why wait for an arraignment? You could have him arraigned tomorrow if you wanted."

"I could, but I want to give Sorio a few days to think things over. I want to see if the man's willing to speak, then we can think of a reasonable plea bargain," Carolina explained. "I highly doubt that a _decorated_ man such as himself would like to serve a full sentence. He may think he's all big and bad, but once he sees his very high chances of being put away for life without parole, he'll talk."

"Are you going to be the prosecutor for his case?" Paul asked.

"No, my focus, for the time being, is on organized crime. I'm sending Sorio's case to my colleagues in the Western Division. The attorney isn't a fan of Sorio and has jurisdiction, so I'm sure he will have no problem sticking it to him."

"What if Sorio pleads not guilty?" Jenks said.

"For his sake, he'd better not," Carolina bit back. "Oh! I cannot believe I forgot to tell you: you'll be happy to know that my court will be issuing an arrest warrant for Edward—I'm sorry, _Edward Masen_ —for his role in Sorio's case. Carlisle is dead, so we can't go after him, but Edward—I think we can get something done."

"I'm glad you're going after the leader," Jenks said quickly. "Not to pry, but how did you—"

"I have my sources."

"You're not going to tell us who they are?" Paul asked.

"If I wanted to, I wouldn't refer to them as my sources," Carolina pointed out, and then, "Don't worry, Jenks. None of them are criminals. I don't harbor criminals."

"What makes you think this Edward Masen will comply?"

"Because he doesn't have a choice," Carolina said. "If an arrest warrant is issued, he will be arrested. No questions asked. Anyway, if he is as smart as I think he is, he will turn himself in. I can't nab him for any serious charges outside of bribery and possibly possession, so the sooner he turns himself in, the shorter his sentence will be."

"You want his sentence to be short?"

Carolina scoffed. "Of course not, but if there is one thing I've learned from working in this business, it's that long-term rewards are always so much sweeter than short-term ones."

"You want to destabilize the family..." Paul realized.

Carolina leaned over on her elbows. "I fully intend to retire with several big-time mob convictions under my belt. It's always easier to convict mobsters when their social system breaks down. That's when they become jaded and question the strength of their so-called family. Seeing their fortunes and reputation dwindle—that's when they start to weigh their options, wondering if maintaining their allegiance is worth the consequences. And we will be right here, waiting for them to come running straight into our open arms."

"These aren't your normal criminals, Barba," Jenks said. "They aren't humans; they are vampires."

"Tell me, counselor: what difference does that make?"

* * *

"Sorry for being MIA for the past couple of weeks. Shit's been hitting the fan lately. Couldn't reach out even if I wanted to," Benjamin said as he entered the back of Jacob's car. "I heard about what happened with Sam. That's messed up, but I guess at least, he's alive."

"Yeah," Leah said under her breath.

"I also heard Maria had something to do with it. Maria's an idiot. She knows my people are on her ass. We're the ATF. We investigate illegal arms, for goodness' sake. Why's she bringing more heat onto herself and the cartel?" Benjamin shook his head. "An idiot, I tell you. An idiot."

"She got spooked," Jacob said.

"Everyone knows you don't _kill_ a cop when you're under investigation."

"Technically, Sam's not dead." Embry looked in Leah's direction. "Did she know about him being UC?"

"Rumor has it, no," Leah said. "He was almost shot execution-style, but his would-be assassins chickened out at the sight of a cop car not too far off. They didn't finish the job."

"How is he now?" Benjamin asked.

Leah glanced behind her. "Stable."

"When will he wake up?"

"Honestly, it depends all on him."

"Well, Godspeed to him. But um… anyway, I just want to provide my condolences, but I didn't come here for just that," Benjamin said. "I came here to give you some intel that may help you guys out more than my people. After all, our jurisdiction is limited." He paused to pull out a flash drive out of his pocket and handed it to Jacob. "Check it out," he advised.

"What is it?" Jacob asked, holding up the flash drive.

Leah and Embry waited for an answer.

"Let's just say you're not the only people running a tap on the Cullen's," Benjamin replied. "Everyone happened within the city lines, so you're covered."

"What is it?" Leah asked.

"Apparently, there's been a shift in power dynamics," Benjamin said, opening his door. "I wish I can sit and chat, but I gotta go. Like I said, shit's been going down. Can't afford to get caught."

"We understand," Leah said. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"And still alive," Jacob said, and then, smirking, "You know what I mean."

Benjamin grinned. "Yeah, I do."

* * *

"I know Sam's shooting is a priority, but Benjamin has something for us," Leah told Paul, pulling out the flash drive, holding it up for captain to see. "He says it's important. Got something to do with power dynamics."

Paul stared at the device, raising an eyebrow. "Files?"

"Audio," Leah confirmed. "The ATF got a wire on the Olympic coven, as well."

"Let me know if anything of interest comes up."

* * *

"Miss Platt, Ms. Denali would like to speak to you."

"Let her in, Katrina."

"Of course."

The sound of the door opening and closing could be heard in the background by some heavy breathing. Mostly coming from Tanya who soon after exclaimed, "You have some nerve!"

"Good morning to you, too," Esme responded in a tone that dismissed Tanya's rage. "Katrina, leave us."

"Of course, Ms. Platt."

* * *

Jacob looked Leah's way. "Katrina?"

"Esme's PA," Leah explained. She had spent some time—well, the past few months—trying to understand the matriarch of the family and her inner circle. Some might call it a bit obsessive, but some, namely Paul, was perfectly okay with it just as long as there was legal backing. Which there was; she was the main suspect behind Carlisle's death. Which was technically ruled as "accidental", but not really. It was complicated. "Originally from Houston, turned back in the '90s."

She dug into her pocket and pulled out an old photo of Katrina and handed it to Jacob. Katrina was interesting because she didn't fit the profile associated with the members of the family, at least background-wise. As far as she knew, there wasn't an official rule that the family members had to be white, but it was heavily implied—it wasn't anything new. Organizations tended only to recruit their kind.

"POI?" Jacob asked, handing the photo to Embry.

Leah shook her head. She couldn't find much evidence that would justify marking Katrina as a "person of interest", but she had been Esme's assistant for over twenty years. That woman had to know something.

"That's interesting that Esme still wants to be called by her maiden name," Embry remarked. "I mean, it's not a big deal, but I don't think widows drop their maiden names like that. It seems that she really wants to be detached from Carlisle."

"I guess it's something of note," Leah said quietly but believed that the cop might be onto something. She exchanged a look with Jacob, shrugged and returned to listening.

* * *

The door opened and closed again, leaving only Esme and Tanya in the room.

"You, bitch," Tanya snarled.

Esme, still dismissive, snorted at the insult. "Is there you would like to discuss, Tanya?"

"Edward ended our engagement!"

"My condolences."

"I don't need your condolences," Tanya spat. "I need a goddamn explanation. Do you not care about the coven? How could you just tell Edward to end things between us like that? Everyone was going according to plan."

"Tanya." Esme took in a breath. "Edward is a grown man. He is the leader of the Cullen family for a reason. He is perfectly capable of making his own decisions without my input. I'm sorry about your engagement, but your anger misdirected."

"Misdirected?" Tanya let out a maniacal laugh. "Edward told me that his decision was about Irina. You know, the traitor I just killed?"

Esme didn't respond.

"How can you say that you have nothing to do with this situation? You told me to kill her!"

* * *

Leah nearly choked on the pretzels in her mouth and breathed out, "Well, _damn_."

Jacob pressed the pause button, "Holy shit," he breathed out, sliding back his chair a bit. He stared a look with his equally stunned teammates.

"Gotta love the mob," Embry said, shaking his head.

"Irina's dead," Leah said. She cleared throat (and the pretzels), trying to digest all of the audio. In all honesty, she wasn't surprised about Irina's fate; the photos obtained from Allister were damning as hell. But now, the merger between the Cullens and Denalis was null which meant that, "The Olympic coven's in trouble."

"The feds need to know about this," Embry said. "They'll have a field day. Caroline Barba practically has a slam dunk case."

"We're going to ask Paul for an arrest warrant. Two: one for Tanya for murder and other for Esme for conspiracy," Jacob said before pressing the play button. "Damn, Benjamin wasn't fucking around."

* * *

"No, I did not," Esme said. "You made that decision all by yourself, and thus, you have no one to blame but yourself. You should not have allowed yourself to be driven by anger—"

"I cannot believe this!"

"Quiet down," Esme suggested. "You don't want Edward to come here, do you?" and then, "I didn't think so. Now, let's have an intelligent, mature conversation with limited screaming. After all, it is five in the morning.

"First of all, I know that you are aware that for every single thing we do, there are going to be consequences. Irina betrayed the Denali's, so you killed her. You killed Irina, most likely without confiding in Edward, who was your soon-to-be husband, so Edward ended the engagement. Yelling at me isn't going to solve a thing."

"You—"

"Second of all, you have no right to accuse me of not thinking of the coven," Esme continued. "The coven is all I think about, and I can assure you that there is nothing in the world I want more than keeping the Denali's and the Cullen's together—"

"I can kill you for this," Tanya threatened through gritted teeth. "I should kill you for this."

"And jeopardize whatever is left of the alliance between your family and mine?" Esme let out a dramatic sigh. "Not even you would be so short-sighted. You would only be doing the same thing you've been accusing me of."

"I don't understand how you can act so arrogant. You don't have the power to influence any decisions regarding this _alliance_. You never have."

Esme scoffed. "If believing so makes you feel better... but as I mentioned previously, your anger is misdirected, and it's not going to get you anywhere. If you want to improve your position in the coven, then you would have to find a way to get back into Edward's good graces."

"And how do you expect me to do that, _Mrs. Cullen_?"

"Well, you can start by making decisions after having an in-depth deliberation with those on the board. I know you are upset about Irina and what she had done, but she is the last person you should have killed off," Esme told Tanya, and then, "Who knows, if you had given you decisions a second thought, then Edward wouldn't have had a reason to end your engagement."

Tanya was speechless.

"I highly advise you not to take this personally," Esme said after a few moments of tense silence. "After all, it's just business."

* * *

"Well, that was pretty damning," Paul remarked hours later when the wire's audio ended. He was inside his office with Jacob, Leah, Embry, and Jenks, who had been called in an hour earlier at the captain's earnest request. "What do you think, counselor? Should we be handing out arrest warrants like candy?"

"We should notify the feds," Jenks suggested, still staring at the laptop screen intently although the audio had stopped. He was deep in thought—Leah could practically hear the gears turning in his head, as cliché as it might be. The prosecutor eventually spoke up again, "What happened to Irina is their business. She was in the middle of a plea arrangement, remember?"

"And now, she's dead," Leah said.

"And now, she's dead," Jenks said, and then, "Let the feds handle the Denali's."

Jenks' suggestion didn't sit well with Paul who literally wanted everyone—human, vampire and other supernatural beings alike—involved in this mess tossed into Alcatraz by the end of the week. Jacob felt the same way, and it wasn't before long when the two men teamed up against Jenks in convincing the prosecutor to choose another way.

Embry stayed out of it. With her back against the chair and arms crossed, Leah did as well, but more to spend time mulling over the facts in her mind. Benjamin had mentioned to the team that there was a shift in dynamics in the Olympic Coven. Did he mean Tanya… or did he mean Esme? No, it was definitely the latter. The audio had proved it. Tanya was losing her grip on power while Esme was solidifying it—

"I think someone was trying to dismantle the Denali's," Leah suggested abruptly, causing her partner, her captain and the prosecutor to cease their squabbling. "Someone not named us. Or the feds, and I don't think it was an inside job."

All the men glanced at each other and then, turned their attention to Leah, waiting for further explanation.

"No, it couldn't have been an inside job," Leah carried on. "Because someone would have mentioned the photos already. Don't you find the timing of this revelation interesting? Right when Irina was in the process of accepting a plea."

"That could be motive for an inside job," Jenks argued. "Irina was going to talk, and someone wanted her silence."

"But they didn't need the photos to do that," Jacob pointed out. "Being a rat is justification for execution," and then, "Maybe, Leah's onto something. Whoever did this was trying to do more damage than letting Irina get killed."

"Just like what they did to Carlisle," Embry said. "I mean, people were starting to question his authority after the Jessica-debacle. No one likes working for a boss who makes very questionable decisions. Maybe the decision to kill Irina for _that_ may result in people losing their trust in Tanya."

"Esme seems to be offering no help," Leah added.

"You think she knew about the photos?" Paul asked.

Leah shrugged.

"She knows more than she lets on," Jacob said. "But I highly doubt she had those photos in her possession, at least based on the evidence. We found out about the photos from Alistair, the man who never contacts us, and—"

"We need to speak to this Alistair," Jenks told Paul. "Preferably before the day ends."

"If we find out that Tanya murdered on Chicago's soil, the case is ours," Paul told the prosecutor. "With all due respect to our federal law enforcement partners, I'd like to have come convictions be the result of the Chicago Police Department's hard work."

Jenks gave the captain a look. "We'll see how it goes."

* * *

Later, Jenks gave the trio the green-light to launch another wire. Apparently, Sorio's replacement wanted to do everything in his power not to attract the attention of federal agents. So, if the task force wanted to eavesdrop on the Cullen's conversation? Just as long as it was within the city of Chicago's borders, he was fine with it.

Their focus was to gather more information on Tanya's involvement in Irina's death and the potential shift of power in the Cullen-Denali arrangement. They weren't planning on arresting anyone yet, but when they did, they wanted to make sure they had enough damning evidence. Enough for the perps to start talking.

"Alcatraz isn't a federal prison, right?" Leah asked. "So, anyone we arrest can be sent there, right?"

"It's complicated," Jacob said, handing both Leah and Embry the headsets. They were parked about a mile from the Cullen residence. "It's officially federal, but due to certain circumstances, we can send those convicted of state crimes over there."

"So, then why do we have to give Maria to the feds?" Embry asked.

"Because her drama goes beyond the city of Chicago," Jacob said. "Her crime spree has crossed state lines."

"Ah," Leah said, nodding. "That explains it."

"And plus, I don't think Alcatraz can handle her," Jacob carried on. "It's a max security prison for the supernatural, she needs more than that. I think Alcatraz is more suitable for newborns, honestly."

"Now what about Tanya?" Embry asked.

Leah waited for an answer.

"If everyone works out, Tanya's ours," Jacob said, adding a smirk. "As far as we know, most of her operations are within Chicago. Irina's death, from the sound of it, happened _in_ Chicago."

"First major break," Embry remarked, grinning.

"Second," Leah corrected as she increased the volume on the computer. The wire was about to start. "Remember, Mike's still in Cook County."

* * *

"Thank you both for being here," Edward started, trying to sound like his usual self, only to sound exhausted.

"Of course," Jasper said.

"It's not a problem," Rosalie said with some hesitance before taking a loud sip of something, most likely blood, and then added, "Really."

"I know you're busy, Rosalie, but I wouldn't have called you in on such short notice if it wasn't an emergency," Edward said, and then declared, "

"I know."

"We have a major problem concerning the Denali's..."

"Irina is dead," Jasper finished.

Rosalie choked on the blood and stuttered out thanks after Jacob slapped her back. After placing the glass down and taking a series of deep, controlled breaths, she asked, " _What_?"

"Tanya killed her," Edward stated. "She killed her over allegations that Irina had betrayed her and the coven."

* * *

"You got that?"

Leah nodded as she noted the time displayed on the small laptop screen in front of her. This was big. Tanya would be arrested for murder. It was crazy, but not surprising. It had been implied that she wouldn't take Irina's betrayal well."

"I thought she'd wait it out," Embry said. "Until the dust clears. There's too much heat on the family right now."

"Betrayal is a bitch," Jacob remarked, stealing Leah a glance.

* * *

"Irina? _Betrayed_?" Rosalie said, stunned. "Holy shit."

"My sentiments exactly," Edward said, exasperated. "The issue isn't just that Irina was the subject of a federal investigation—it is a problem, but it's not as big as the potential of the Olympic alliance splitting…"

"Why would it split?"

"I ended my engagement with Tanya."

"You did what? Wait—Why?"

"Tanya has been... acting erratically of late," Jasper told Rosalie. "The boss can't afford to marry her. Not now. Not anytime soon."

"How did she react to the news?" Rosalie asked.

The question seed more rhetorical than anything.

Edward hesitated before responding. "She told me to go fuck myself."

"Sounds about right," Rosalie muttered. "Perhaps, you should have cut her some slack, Edward. She's been through hell."

" _I did_ ," Edward contended. "That's why I only ended our relationship. I'm not going to ostracize her or anything. I'm not going to ruin the relationship between the Cullen's and the Denali's."

"I suppose..." Rosalie said. "If you're no longer going to marry Tanya, how do you intend to solidify the alliance between you and the Denali's? That's what the marriage was for."

"That's why you're here."

* * *

"I'm not—"

"I just need advice."

Rosalie snorted "You shouldn't have broken up with her… How's your relationship with Carmen?"

"Decent," Edward replied, then added, "considering."

"Okay, and I assume Tanya isn't going to off _her_ anytime soon?"

"I sure hope not."

"So… if you're not marrying Tanya and you still want to keep the families together... you're going to have to form a merger."

Jasper immediately jumped in with, "Tanya is _not_ going to agree to that."

Edward let out a deep breath. "Jasper's right. Tanya loves her coven more than anything; she isn't going to give it up."

"Well, make her," Rosalie suggested. "You have leverage. I can't imagine the Denali's can continue to operate with Irina gone. I love Carmen, but she's _not_ Irina. Convince her to talk Tanya into accepting the merger."

"What if Carmen can't?"

"Then use Irina's death against Tanya," Jasper suggested.

"Tanya killed the subject of a federal investigation," Rosalie pointed out. "I can't imagine Barba being too thrilled about that. Two suspects in two of her biggest organized crime cases are now dead. How do you think she's going to react if she discovers that Tanya killed her?"

"She'll go after Tanya," Jasper said. "If that happens, the Denali family is as good as gone. Rosalie's right. Carmen isn't Irina; she's not going to lead the family if Tanya's gone— _that's_ your leverage, boss."

Rosalie nodded. "Tell Tanya that she either agrees to your terms or gets arrested for murder," she said. "Knowing Barba, she'll definitely pursue a first-degree murder conviction against Tanya. If Tanya cooperates with you, promise her that you will brush her involvement in Irina's death under the rug. No law enforcement agency will have to know."

* * *

"So, about that arrest warrant," Jacob said to Paul later that night. Sure, the case could technically be handled by the feds, but the murder happened on Chicago's soil. They could and should arrest Tanya. "We have reasonable suspicion."

"More than that," Embry added.

Leah remained silent. It sounded like a good idea. The rational idea, but something didn't sit right with her. Something told her that arresting Tanya at this moment would do more harm than good.

"We should wait," she eventually suggested. "If we take her now, then everyone will know we've been listening on to them."

Embry was confused. "So?"

"So," Leah sat up in her seat. She looked between Jacob and Paul; they didn't seem as dismissive as Embry. "We should wait. We should hear those words coming from Tanya—"

"She accused Esme of suggesting Tanya's murder," Embry contended.

"But that doesn't mean shit," Jacob argued. "Yeah, it's damning. We don't know the context of that statement; heck, Esme even denied it. Captain, what do you think?"

"We'll arrest her," Paul decided. "But not on suspicion of murder. If Rosalie doesn't want us to know about the murder, then we won't know. It should be a surprise, and I love surprises because that makes everyone lose their minds."

* * *

Leah found out the next morning that Benjamin al-Fadhil would longer be "Benjamin al-Fadhil" after this week.

The ATF was pulling him for the reason why Paul had wanted to pull Sam. The heat on the gangs wasn't disseminating, and the gang leaders were still instituting a purge. It was the right decision.

Leah would see the undercover agent again a couple of days later, during a pitstop at the station before heading out to Jenks' office. The prosecutor had requested a meeting with the team. Leah never minded seeing Jenks, but she couldn't understand why he was so concerned about Mike Newton. From the looks of it, the case was a slam-dunk: Mike had been the one who called 911 after shooting Lauren; Mike had been the one who confessed to the murder before requesting legal representation—But then again, this was Jenks. He wouldn't be worried about anything not deemed necessary.

Jacob had wanted to drop in on Paul before they met with the ADA, just to check up on him. If the rumors were true, numerous federal agents would be visiting the station for questioning and possibly arrests relating to the police corruption probe. Paul would be fine; despite his reputation, all the captain had done was follow orders, but the man hated the feds just as much as Jacob did.

From the moment Leah, Jacob, and Embry walked into the station, they knew the rumors were true. Paul, who was talking to a group of agents near his office, looked like he was moments away from exploding. After exchanging a cautious look with Leah, Jacob excused himself and headed straight to Paul's office to do some damage control. Leah followed close behind until a familiar, unexpected scent hit her. Curious and puzzled, she stopped, turned around, and headed straight to the holding cells.

Benjamin was still here.

"I was under the impression that you were supposed to be yesterday," Leah said the moment she reached her destination. She grimaced as she watched Benjamin finish the last of his lunch—two bags of vegetarian blood. She was glad she was the only person who had noticed what the man had ingested; she was sure that the other inmates wouldn't have appreciated the sight. It was a smart of Paul to place Benjamin in a cell that was isolated from the others. She couldn't even see any of the other inmates from where she was standing.

Benjamin looked up from behind bars, put aside the bag of blood and grinned. "Detective Uley, always a pleasure to see your face." He stood up and placed his hands on the cell bars. He might not be a prisoner, but he didn't want the others to know that. "Yeah, looks like my extradition got a little delayed."

Leah snorted at the obvious and shook her head. "Do I even want to know why?"

"It's nothing too crazy. Just bureaucracy being bureaucracy," Benjamin replied. He sighed; as much as he loved roaming around Paul's holding cell, it would be nice to return to where he belonged finally. "It's all the damn paperwork."

"Just to get you out of here?"

"You would be surprised," Benjamin grumbled. "But I did receive news that I will be set free this afternoon."

"Isn't that what they told you last time?"

"Yes, but I think they're serious this time," Benjamin said. He was choosing to remain optimistic. "I was told that once the paperwork's done, I'll be good to go."

"Are you going back to your office?"

Benjamin nodded. "Yeah, but I'm going to lay low for a while. Maybe request a much-needed transfer."

"Lay low?"

"It's standard for undercover assignments. I'm probably going to be stuck at the desk, writing never-ending reports, so, yeah... I'm laying low for a while."

Benjamin put his hands behind his head and leaned against the cell wall. "Luckily for me, it doesn't look like I'll have to be under witness protection. Felix's been arrested, so technically, the hit's off. The Volturi might not be too happy with me all the way from Europe, but they can't afford to knock off a federal agent. At least, not anytime soon."

"Good to hear," Leah said. "Look, Benjamin…"

"Yusuf."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"My name," Benjamin clarified, smiling. "Yusuf Mansour. My real name." His focus shifted beyond Leah to the several federal agents who were following Paul around the station. "Looks like the feds won't be leaving you guys anytime soon."

Leah turned around and watched as Paul pointed things out to his guests, looking as annoyed as ever. She suspected that Jacob was only tagging along to make sure Paul didn't get himself arrested. "We're being investigated," she said. "For corruption and obstruction."

"Sounds exciting."

Leah appreciated Benjamin's sarcasm. She expected to hear news about subpoenas and arrest warrants from her captain in the near future— Her gaze dropped to the floor. She should be fine, right? She was just doing her job, right? Surely, she wouldn't be one of the unfortunate cops in trouble, _right_?

"Oh yes, I'm certainly looking forward to answering a long list of questions, and the possibility of getting disciplined or worse," Leah mumbled.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Benjamin said. "You'll be fine. You, Jacob, Samm, and even Paul will be fine. My people already know about the immense help you've all given me. They'll convince the FBI to leave you alone. They may question you guys, but charges and convictions?" He shook his head. "That's not going to happen. I'll make sure of it."

Leah let out a sigh in relief. "Thank you."

"No problem. If anything, I should be the one thanking you. Without your help, the raid and everything else wouldn't have happened," Benjamin said. "Now, I can't promise you that your coworkers will be treated the same. Making deals with covens usually isn't viewed in a positive light—oh, look. That man coming this way has keys." He clapped. "Maybe that means I'm free."

Leah nodded. She stepped aside when a cop approached them, waving around the cell keys. He greeted Leah before turning his attention to the man in the cell. "Mansour, we're ready to head out."

Benjamin grinned. "About time." He had enjoyed his stay with the Chicago Police Department, but he would rather not spend another night in a holding cell. "My people are here?"

"Waiting outside," the cop replied, and then dropped his voice. "To tell you the truth, I don't think the ATF wants to come inside with the FBI hanging around."

Benjamin nodded. "Yeah, makes sense. They're not the best of friends right now."

"Why not?" Leah asked.

"Long story," Benjamin quickly said, stretching out his arms as he walked out of the cell, and followed Leah and the cop to the lobby. An ATF agent was standing right outside, leaning against the stairs. Another agent was leaning against a car, arms crossed, looking both bored and annoyed. "Looks like my job here is done— Thanks, man."

The cop nodded and left, leaving Leah and Benjamin behind. "Your coworkers look happy," Leah said sarcastically.

"Yeah, extractions can be a bit of a pain in the ass." Benjamin grinned. "Tell Paul and everyone that I thank them for their hospitality and help. I wanted to let them know face to face, but it looks like they're occupied."

"I'll make sure to pass it on." Leah looked through the precinct window and the ATF near the car, pointing at his wristwatch. The other agent entered the building, and stood at the doorway, watching Benjamin expectantly. "I think your friends are getting impatient."

"Oh, they can wait a little bit," Benjamin said. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Here's my card. I wrote down my personal cell. If you need anything, and I mean, anything, hit me up."

Leah took the card and smiled. "Thank you. I think we're—Actually, there is one thing." She searched her pockets for the note Jacob had given her earlier about the possible existence of a second federal prison facility just for the supernatural. One that was a step beyond a supermax. Leah had to know if it was true or not. After looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to them, including the agent, who was now speaking to another officer, she handed Benjamin the piece of paper. "Do you have any information on this?"

Benjamin raised an eyebrow as he looked between Leah and the note. "How did you—"

Leah knew she didn't have time to explain. "Does it exist?"

Benjamin hesitated to answer. "Arizona Desert," he whispered. "Near Area 51."

Leah froze. ''What?"

"It's a quarter mile deep." Benjamin let out a humorless chuckle. "I told y'all they know about us."

" _Agent Mansour, it's time to leave_."

Benjamin acknowledged the agent. "One second!"

"Who knows?"

"Only a select few are supposed to."

"And yet you're telling me..."

"Think of it as _unofficially_ classified info," Benjamin said as he started to head towards the entrance. "Looks like I gotta go before my friend over there has a hit. We'll catch up, 'kay?"

"Of course. Goodbye, Yusuf."

Benjamin turned around and grinned, "Goodbye, Leah."


	39. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

* * *

Sam woke up on a September Sunday.

Leah was relieved. She couldn't accurately describe _how_ relieved she was at the sight of her husband's eyes. He was awake; no longer did she have to wonder if and when he would wake up from unconsciousness.

Although still disorientated, Sam looked better than he had in weeks. The color returned to his face. He was aware of his surroundings, though he was pointedly avoiding Leah's gaze. Leah could have been offended, but then again, this avoidance could be a sign that some normalcy had returned. He had been avoiding her since February.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," Sam quietly replied, voice raspy due to lack of use. "What happened?"

Leah dropped her gaze and sighed. This could happen, the doctors said, memory loss. The extent varied from person to person. But Leah wouldn't feed her husband much information; doing so would be counterproductive to the investigation. His side of the story would only come from what he could recall.

"You've been in a coma for the past three weeks."

Sam froze. "You're fucking with me."

Leah shook her head, pulled out her phone, and showed her husband the date.

Sam's eyes widened before he cursed under his breath.

"Why?" he asked.

"You don't remember that night?" Leah asked. "You were shot. A bullet to the head."

"I dreamed about it," Sam said under his breath. If Leah was still a human, she might not be able to catch the words. "Shit."

"You're alive now. That's what matters," Leah said, and then asked again, "Do you remember that night?"

"I was working," Sam whispered, trying to sit up in his bed but couldn't. Leah helped him out. "The past couple of weeks have been insane with everything…The raid complicated everything." He then locked eyes with Leah. "I assume you know about my work."

Leah wasn't going to lie to the man. He wasn't mad, not even surprised. Aisha had been his handler, and Aisha was very good friends with Leah.

"Aisha didn't tell me the details," Leah ensured him. "Everything I've learned came from the investigation into your attempted murder."

"Attempted murder," Sam said, shaking his head, and then asked, "How is that going?"

"Aisha and Martinez will be stopping by sometime today," Leah said. She had called Paul to tell him the news. The captain would send over the other detectives to officially ask Sam about the shooting. "We already have some people in custody."

"But the Deal—"

"Paul said: fuck the Deal."

Sam snorted. "Now what did the higher powers say?'

"He said it to their faces."

"And he still has a _job_?'

"They need him more than he needs them," Leah said. "The Deal isn't completely gone. It's just been temporarily suspended until the bosses figure out what they want to do."

* * *

"He's one lucky man," the doctor would later tell Leah that night as she headed out of Sam's room. "Head wounds are serious. A bullet to the head can be fatal. But even when it's not, we never know how much it truly affects a patient until after the fact."

Leah eyed the doctor. "What are you saying?"

"I think he'll be fine. We still have to keep him here to run tests and physical therapy. But he'll be fine."

"When can he return to work?"

"It depends," the doctor said. "He can return to crime-fighting by the winter or never again."

* * *

"Yo, so that means that Sam's gonna be put on disability?" Embry asked when Leah told him and Jacob the news.

It was the morning after Sam had woken up. The trio was working, doing that they had been brought into the Voldemort taskforce to do—not hunt down vampires (and got shot along the way), but conduct surveillance. The Cook Country judge had been generous enough to let the taskforce eavesdrop on certain citizens of Chicago, but it wouldn't last forever. The judge was getting heat from the state attorney—which involved yet another shitstorm that Leah didn't want to think about now.

In short, the team had free reign over the wires until the end of next week.

"Most likely not," Leah said before thanking Jacob for a much-needed cup of tea. She would have gotten coffee, but she was trying to limit her intake to two cups a day, not four. So far, it was a pain in the ass. "He seems to be doing well considering."

"The man may not be my favorite person, but I'm glad to hear he's alright," Jacob said.

Leah smiled. "Yeah."

Today was a monumental day in the world of law enforcement. Earlier in the morning, as in half past midnight, the Northern District Federal Court judge had issued a warrant for Edward's arrest. The point of this surveillance was to capture Edward's reaction to the news. It wasn't much of a surprise, and the charges weren't as egregious as it could have been. But it was something. It would get Edward in some prison cell.

The team had received a tip from their colleagues that Edward arranged a meeting with his sometimes-counsel, Rosalie Hale.

"He's turning himself in, right?" Embry wanted to make sure. "I'm not in the mood to play US Marshals."

Leah and Jacob chuckled.

"That's what he said. And if he's as smart as I think he is, he won't put up a fight," Leah said before listening on the conversation between Edward and Rosalie (featuring Jasper). Rosalie had just told Edward the news. He was annoyed, expectantly so, but he wasn't surprised. The feds were literally after everyone, even the Chicago Police.

* * *

"The charges are relatively minor," Rosalie said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Relatively," Edward grumbled. "What are they, specifically?"

"Bribery charges connected to Calvin Sorio's case," Rosalie said quietly. "He didn't talk, but the feds have found evidence in his home office. With your name on it. Apparently, they received a tip from an anonymous source."

"Who is?"

"It anonymous, Edward."

"Fuck. How many years are we looking at, Rosalie?"

"Generally, we're looking at ten to fifteen, max—"

"Shit."

"But that's the worst-case scenario," Rosalie insisted. "That's what will happen if you don't turn yourself in—"

"Damn it, Rosalie, do you want the entire family doing time?"

Jasper remained silent.

"Of course not," Rosalie explained. "Edward, come on, you know me. if I wanted you to rot in prison, I would have made that happen years ago."

"Then why are you—" Edward stopped. "You know why Barba wants me to do time, right?"

"Of course, she wants to destabilize the Cullen's," Rosalie said. "She must know that you're in charge now. With you and Jasper in prison, Emmett being transferred to Alcatraz and Tanya being… Tanya, she assumes the family will collapse."

"And you still want me to give her what she wants?"

Rosalie let out a frustrated sigh. "You're giving her what she wants _now_ , not what she ultimately wants. Find someone to run things while you and Jasper serve your meager sentences. You know, it's possible to give orders from a prison cell."

"So, what happens after I get out?"

"We— _You_ go after Barba," Rosalie suggested. "You can wait until the others get out, but you may not need to."

"You expect me to wait for all of those years?"

"If you listen to me, I can get you out in a couple of years, which in vampire-years, is basically nothing," Rosalie promised. "Listen, I'm not speaking to you as if you're my unofficial client. I'm speaking to you as a friend with an extensive legal background. I know how this works."

Jasper finally spoke up. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Rosalie's right. There's nothing wrong with giving Barba what she wants for now… she's not going to be successful. If she wants to bring down the Cullen's, she will have to take out the whole family. It does not matter how many people the feds arrest. It doesn't matter how many people she and the feds send away—we can replace them."

There was a pause.

"Rosalie, I would like you to represent me in this case."

Rosalie had to scoff. "I'm honored, but I must decline. I'm technically still Carlisle's legal counsel."

"Who's dead."

"But his estate isn't," Rosalie countered. "Plus, as I've told you previously, my tenure as being the Cullen's lawyer will be coming to a close by the end of this month. You won't be done with your legal matters then. I'm doing you a service by turning down your offer."

"Then can you at least point me to some good lawyers?"

Rosalie sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you. Now, I just realized that we have another huge problem: the family can't hold up with both of us gone, even if I can run things from prison."

"Have someone run things on the outside with your approval," Jasper suggested.

"If you're going to have someone take your place, perhaps we should rethink the idea of a merger. I wouldn't do a complete merger," Rosalie advised. "You guys are strong, no doubt, but with the two of you heading to prison, the family wouldn't be able to handle a civil war. Plus, there is also Esme's safety to worry about."

"Do you have a better idea?" Edward asked. "The Denali family needs a leader."

"Who's not Tanya," Jasper tossed in.

"Who's not Tanya," Edward repeated, nodding.

"How about a tributary agreement?" Rosalie suggested. "Instead of absorbing the Denali coven and subjecting yourself to a possible insurrection, make the Denali's pay you tribute for protection and whatever. Since, you know, Irina's dead and Tanya's not exactly of sound mind, that family needs all the protection they can get."

"But Tanya would still be in charge," Jasper contended. "We don't want that."

"Yes, she would still be in charge, but her power would be diminished—you would call the shots. If the Denali's don't pay tribute, they'll be left out in the cold. And with Victoria ready to strike at any time, despite her being in federal custody, that wouldn't be in their best interests."

"Jasper, what do you think?"

"It's a reasonable middle ground," Jasper agreed. "But will this agreement be sustainable?"

Rosalie didn't respond.

"I got it!" Edward declared, slapping a hand on his desk. "We'll have a tributary agreement wile someone from our family, who's not currently under investigation, run things. Once Jasper and I get out of prison, we'll completely take it over. A couple of years will give me more than enough time to do a merger without much blood being spilled."

"Don't you mean without _any_ blood?" Rosalie corrected.

"That would be ideal," Edward said, then sighed. "But it's not realistic. Tanya's not happy with me at the moment."

"Speaking of Tanya, how are we going to tell her about this?" Jasper asked.

"I think it would be wise to ask Carmen to persuade Tanya," Rosalie said. "Carmen seems to be the type to choose peace over civil war. Remember, you still have leverage over Tanya because of Irina."

"Who do you think would be suitable for the job?" Jasper asked Edward.

There was a pause, and then, "Esme…"

Jasper raised both eyebrows.

" _Esme_?"

"Esme," Edward confirmed, nodding. "No one would expect that. Plus, she's always wanted to conduct business using legal means. Legal means that the cops and the feds can finally get out of our asses. This may be a blessing in disguise."

* * *

"Nothing's official until Esme agrees with the plan," Jacob declared.

Edward's sake, Leah hoped he knew what he was doing. Sure, if everything blew up in his face, it was good for law enforcement, but she would hate to see a man such as Edward fall apart because of a stupid mistake

* * *

"Emily's due soon."

If it were a different situation, Leah would have laughed at the comical sight in front of her—a speechless, deer-caught-in-headlights Sam. It seemed that he had forgotten he had a child on the way.

"What are you going to do about Emily?"

Leah didn't know why she was doing to this herself, talking to her husband about plans with his goddamn _mistress_. Maybe, it was the analytical side of her, the part that made her a good detective, rearing its ugly head. The overwhelming need to get information no much how much it hurt.

Sam was taken aback by his wife's question. The way he looked at her, he didn't want to talk about Emily or the baby situation. But he accepted his fate and decided not to chicken out, "A baby."

Leah did not immediately respond. She didn't think she could come up with the right words—Sam was in shock, but she couldn't find a sympathetic bone in her body. If her husband had been smart, if he had been so against having children, then he should have invested in a condom or better yet, a vasectomy.

"I fucked up," Sam confessed after a few moments of silence. "I shouldn't have—I'm sorry isn't enough. It's far from enough." He let out a defeated sigh. "I didn't deserve you then, and I sure as hell don't deserve you now."

"Your friends from work think otherwise," Leah retorted, flashing back to the incident involving Moran, the incidents involving the others. The chatter had quieted down during the past couple of weeks, but she doubted it would laugh. Sam was now awake; they couldn't lend her the "grieving" maybe-widow card anymore.

To Leah's pleasant surprise, Sam was remorseful. "They're idiots," he whispered.

"What are you going to do about Emily?" Leah asked again.

"I guess I should make it work," Sam replied. He didn't sound too thrilled about the prospect; more resigned, more upset at himself. He refused to meet Leah's eyes. "Screwed so much shit for it."

Leah cleared her throat; her gaze was anywhere but on her husband. Regret was a bitch, and it seemed for the first time in three years, Sam fully understood the gravity his actions, the error in his ways. It all came too late.

"If you're going to use her to make you feel better about your ill-advised decisions, then it's not worth it," Leah advised, and then added with a little bite that her husband deserved, "Co-parenting is a thing, you know. Consider that."

* * *

"This is the last week we're going to be on the wire," Jacob announced to the team on a Friday night. They were all pulling a double-shift. "Make it count."

"It's not like we can arrest anyone with it," Embry complained. "At least, not now. Not until they figure out what they're doing with the Deal. Despite what our fearless leader wants to believe."

"It'll work out," Leah vowed. "This is Paul, we're talking about. Because of him, we have some of the vampires in custody. They're not the big fish, but it's something."

Jacob nodded in agreement. "Plus, Embry, Benjamin—"

"Yusuf."

" _Yusuf_ said that there was going to be a major shift of power in the Olympic coven and with Edward allegedly turning himself in, that's huge. We just need more evidence to reel everyone it. It's not going to happen overnight. We need to see if Esme accepts the offer."

Jacob and Leah's words didn't entirely convince Embry, not they could honestly blame them. This case, this investigation, was a major pain in the ass for everyone.

Leah put on her headphones and increased the volume slightly. The team was eavesdropping on a meeting inside the Cullen home between Edward, Rosalie, Jasper and to their surprise, Esme.

Esme wasn't officially involved in the family dealings, but there she was, listening as Edward discussed the events of the past couple of months and how it would affect business.

* * *

"And that is where we are at," Edward finished.

"It's wise that you're turning yourself in," Esme said. "I know it doesn't sound like the best idea, but I do not want our home to get raided by the darn US Marshals because you want to out-run an arrest warrant. Not for some measly bribery charges."

"My sentiments exactly," Edward said. "That's why I wanted to speak to you."

"What for?" Esme asked.

"During my inevitable stint in prison, I would like you to run things around here," Edward explained. "I will do the best I can, but since I will be in prison, I'm going to have a bit of a hard time talking to the family directly. Of course, the choice is yours. I would never force you to do anything against your will."

"Are you serious?" Esme finally asked.

"Never been more. The coven respects you. _I_ respect you—I think this is the best course of action. What do you say?"

There was a pause, but ultimately Esme said, "I'll do whatever is necessary to keep this family, this coven, afloat. If that means that I should be in charge of keeping this family together while you and Jasper are in prison, then so be it."

* * *

"You think the coven will prosper under her?" Embry asked as he wrote down his notes in this notepad. "She's only been operating behind the scenes. This is the opposite of behind the scenes."

"Sometimes, that's the best way to learn," Leah argued. "Just watch and observe the workings of the business without explicitly getting involved." She looked at Jacob. "Anything we can do with this?"

Jacob shook his head. "But it's useful information." He then checked his notes. "Hold on tight, Edward's scheduled a meeting with his ex and ex-soon-to-be-sister-in-law in a few hours. That oughta be interesting."

"First, we get some food," Leah suggested. "I need some steak in my system."

Jacob gave Leah a half smile as Embry chuckled. "Anything for you, my lady."

Leah rolled her eyes and threw off her headphones. Nothing of note was happening in the Cullen home. "Oh, shut up."

Jacob joined Embry's laughter, entirely immune to Leah's glare.

Three hours later, a fully sated Leah put on her headphones and signaled everyone to pay attention. Like Jacob had said, this meeting would be interesting. Perhaps more interesting than the one with Esme which had only confirmed the rumors on the street.

The first few meetings of the meeting between Edward, Tanya, and Carmen, an integral member of the Denali Family, were met with unnerving silence. And just when the team was convinced that nothing would happen, Carmen spoke.

* * *

"Edward, what would you like to talk to us about?"

"Carmen, I appreciate you being here, but this conversation is solely between your sister and me," Edward stated.

"What is it that you want, _darling_?" Tanya asked. "It had better be important."

"Oh, it is," Edward said. "It has come to my attention since learning about Irina's fate that I can't have the Denali's be led by someone who can't control herself. Whatever happens to your family will directly impact mine. Because of this, after much deliberation, it has been decided that it would be best for the Denali's and the Cullen's to merge—"

"That was what our marriage was for," Tanya reminded Edward through gritted teeth. "To merge our families."

Edward sighed. "Not exactly; what I am referring to is an eventual takeover—"

Tanya gasped at the idea. "Excuse me? No, I won't accept it—"

"It's not exactly an offer," Edward pointed out. "It's a fact, and it will happen— _how_ depends on you, Tanya."

" _Edward_ —"

Carmen jumped in. "There's no other choice?"

"Of course, there is. We can do this one of two ways: you can allow us to absorb the Denali family and thus officially form the Olympic coven, and we will make sure Irina's death is ruled a suicide. Or you can give us a hard time and get charged for murdering a federal informant since Irina planned to receive a shorter sentence for her cooperation."

" _What_?"

Carmen gulped. "Tanya, _please_..."

"I would listen to Carmen," Edward advised. "You—"

"You bastard!" Tanya exclaimed, shooting out of her chair. She grunted as she was seeming being held back by Carmen. " _You motherfucking bastard_!"

"Tanya!" Carmen chided.

Edward sighed. "Control your sister, Carmen," and then, "It's your choice. Irina's death can be ruled as a homicide with you as the prime suspect or as an accidental. It's your choice."

"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" Carmen cried. "Yes, Irina's death was a mistake, but this? This is going overboard. Tanya's the head of the Denali family. She has been for centuries—"

Edward cut Carmen off. "Not unless she calms down," he said. "When she decides to calm down, I'll think about it, but this is the best course of action at the moment."

"You don't tell me what to do!"

"Tanya, _please_..." Carmen begged, and then to Edward. "So, is that it? When Tanya returns to full... mental health, the Denali's are hers again?"

"Not exactly—"

"But you just said—"

"Edward, do you know what I had to do to keep this goddamn family afloat?" Tanya shouted, struggling to get out of Carmen's grasp. She growled at her sister, but Carmen seemingly did not relent. "Do you how much blood I sacrificed for this family, and now you want to take it?"

"Make a choice, Tanya," Edward said sternly. "I do not have all day."

"I will never—"

Carmen interrupted. "The Denalis will join the Cullens," she decided, ignoring the gasp of horror from her sister.

"Good. As you both know, I will most likely be heading to prison for a couple of years," Edward said calmly. "During my tenure, the Olympic coven will be headed by Esme—with my assistance, of course. You will be answering to her."

Carmen took a deep breath and said, "It's not like we have any choice at the matter. We will answer to Esme."

"I'm glad we were able to discuss this pressing issue. You may leave."

* * *

"Is this what you wanted, Barba?" Jenks asked the US attorney the following day during a meeting involving Paul, the team and himself. "The Denali's have collapsed."

"The ends justified the means," Carolina said coolly and then to the detectives and Embry, "You all have done great work. Your superiors should be very proud of you."

"Of course, I am," Paul said. "I'm proud of everyone in this task force, especially after all the bullshit we've endured. So... why can't we arrest all of those fuckers?"

"Captain, good things come with patience," Carolina said. "Irina's death is unfortunate, but perhaps it was a blessing in disguise for our joint investigation."

"What do you mean?" Leah asked out of turn. "We could have stopped Irina from being killed. We knew it was going to happen the moment we got those photos from Allister."

"Tanya would have found it either way," Carolina argued. "Allister didn't produce the photos. He received it in an envelope with an anonymous sender. They were just photocopies. I assume someone with the real photos sent them to Tanya."

"How can you be sure about Allister?" Paul asked.

"We've been tapping his phones for a while," Carolina said. "Ever since we got that tip from you that Jessica Stanley was a part of his so-called talent agency."

"Arresting him?" Embry asked.

Carolina shook his head. "On our end, he hasn't done anything blatantly illegal. Anyway, he's been cooperative when provided an incentive," and then to Paul, "What about you, captain?"

"Same," Paul said. "Allister is... Allister, but we can't exactly bring a matchmaker service into court. No matter how sleazy it is. Right, Jenks?"

"Sad to say," the prosecutor said.

"What about Irina?" Jacob then asked. "We all know Tanya killed her. They're making moves to ensure that we don't find out about that even though we obviously did. It happened on Chicago soil, so...?"

"I'm not here to dish out orders," Carolina said. "You're not in my jurisdiction, but I'd hold off on bringing Tanya in. The only reason why we know about this is because of the taps. Why mess up a good thing?"

That was what Leah had said, no matter how upsetting it might be.

* * *

Leah saw her from a distance.

She should have turned around and walked away. This wasn't the time to conduct police work by herself, but she was sure Jacob and Embry would forgive her. They'd understand Leah's decision not to turn the other cheek and make she didn't see Esme Cullen standing among her bodyguards right on the shore of Lake Michigan.

Leah couldn't toss away the opportunity. So, she texted Jacob to ensure that there would be no surprises and approached the woman. She removed her badge from her waist, ready to flash it at the opportune time. She would ignore her gun; it wouldn't do anything to her target for she didn't have any UV's in her possession.

"Mrs. Cullen," she called out. For a moment, she reconsidered her decision. This was a risk; this could end badly.

But maybe it wouldn't because to her utmost surprise, Esme did stop in her tracks and turned around, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. She recognized the detective, not surprised, not concerned.

Leah held her breath and walking ahead.

This was so stupid, she kept telling herself. But Esme wasn't running away.

That must mean _something_.

Maybe because they were in public. There were too many people hanging around the lake shore at this time at night, but there was enough around to notice a commotion, like a fight.

Leah had to say she was a bit disappointed in the lack of reaction. This was Esme Cullen. Though, she supposed, it was for the best; Jacob, who was doing some reconnaissance with Martinez and his crew, would have flipped if he found out.

"You've come here to arrest me?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have enough to justify an arrest warrant," Leah replied when she reached Esme's side, flashing her badge. They stood about three feet across, both tense and guarded, watching each other's every move. Technically, she could arrest the woman, but she needed more. There wasn't any point in bringing in the woman only for her to be released hours later. "I guess you've lucked out for now."

Esme tried to hide her smile, but the detective was still able to catch it. She loosened up a bit, folding her hands in front of her and letting out a sigh as she looked out at Lake Michigan. It was approaching sundown, a beautiful sight to see as several planes came flew over the vast body of water to land at O'Hare far behind the two women. "Then, why are you here?"

"I just want the truth."

Esme's eyebrows drew together. "I thought you weren't here to arrest me?"

"I'm not here for Jessica Stanley," Leah assured the woman. She wasn't lying; she really wasn't here for the Dahlia. Over the weeks, she started to realize that the murder was a lot more complicated than a bout of revenge. "To give some peace of mind. Maybe it'll make me sleep better at night."

"I wouldn't be so hard on yourself," Esme insisted. "You and your team did a fine job, even at the expense of my family. And now with the Volturi confined to the borders of Moldova... I believe you've done a fine job."

"And yet your family still runs free," Leah pointed out. She wasn't as angry about this as she should have. Maybe it was the resignation and the fatigue finally rearing their ugly heads. "For the most part."

"Oh seriously, Detective, haven't you been raised in this city your whole life? Don't you know how Chicago operates?"

"Oh, I do," Leah said. "I promise you that. So, the truth?"

Esme sighed, motioning her guards to back up a few steps. "What would you like to know?"

"I don't think I'd have to explain."

"Ah, you're here for _him_."

Leah shrugged. "Him?"

"Oh, come on, detective," Esme said, shaking her head. "His death was ruled as an accident."

"Like I said, I just want to have a piece of mind," Leah said. "I know he's dead. Just want to cover all of our bases. And to emphasize my point, this conversation is off the books."

"Nothing you do is off the books."

"You'd be surprised."

Esme sighed and looked into the distance. Leah… she couldn't accurately read the woman. At their last meeting, she wouldn't say a damn word without his lawyer present, but now, she seemed ready to speak. Somewhat. Leah doubted Esme could confess to everything, to anything. But Esme didn't seem to want to put up a fight. It was so odd.

"I loved my husband. At least, I thought I did. He was a good man. He just made unfortunate decisions," Esme said, staring out in the distance. "I'll have you know that I've never lied about my involvement in that girl's death. I didn't kill her, but I made no efforts to stop it. Perhaps, I should have. But then again, what good would that have done?" Esme shrugged. "Sometime,s you just have to let people figure out their mistakes themselves."

"I see."

"Honestly, she was in over her head. If she had been wiser, she would have just stayed in school and live an honest life. Instead, she chose him. And Demetri."

Leah raised an eyebrow. She wasn't expecting to hear that man's name. "How did you know about him, Demetri?"

"Because those not cognizant of the workings of this business do not know how and when to keep their mouths and their legs closed," Esme said. "Foolish little girl, she really thought her physical attributes would be enough to become one of us."

"What about your husband?"

"Ah, you're here for him." Esme sighed. "I highly suggest you let that one death go."

"You know I can't do that," Leah said, glancing at the guards. They all stared at her intently. "I made an oath."

"This goes beyond your oath, Detective," Esme said. "You're one of us now. The rules change. The circumstances are different. You're still a detective, a fine one at that."

"Thank you," Leah said, and then, "I get what you're saying about your husband. I know what it feels to be betrayed by the one you love. It's a horrible feeling. All the effort you put into your relationship just to be… I don't know, turn into dust."

Esme smirked. "Then why didn't you kill him?"

"It wouldn't have been worth it," Leah admitted.

Esme nodded. "Yeah, that's what I've told myself over the years," she said quietly. "He was my husband. I was supposed to be by his side. I should have been a priority…"

"What happened?"

Esme shrugged. "Life." She faced Leah. "Are you going to arrest me then?"

Leah nodded. "Not for Jessica Stanley."

"But for my husband."

"I want to make you a deal."

Esme snorted. "Of course, I fell into that trap. It must be the hunger talking; I haven't fed in a while," and then, "But I'll have you know that I have no intentions on turning on my family."

"I didn't expect you to," Leah said. "I need your help with the death of Jessica Stanley."

"I said I had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, but you also said that you didn't stop it," Leah pointed out. "So, that means you knew _something_."

"So, what does this deal entail?"

"I have to say, I'm a bit surprised," Leah said. "I wasn't expecting you to be so…"

"Open?" Esme tried and then let out a quiet life. "Oh, I'm not open. Far from it, but I suppose it's called seeing the writing on the wall. Sometimes, it's better to cooperate. We have to pick and choose our battles."

* * *

"She's cooperating because she's taking over the Cullen family," Leah told Jacob. "It wouldn't do the family any good if both she and Edward are in prison. It'll create a power vacuum."

"I can't believe you just ran into Esme," Jacob said, both impressed and worried. A usual combination of emotion when Leah was around. "I can't believe she actually talked. Not that I'm complaining, but damn," and then, "I guess that makes sense. Carolina's gunning for Edward. He must have seen the writing on the wall."

Leah nodded. "She didn't take responsibility for Carlisle's death. I know she had something to do with it, but we don't exactly have the evidence to convince Jenks to take the case without everyone and their mom having a conniption."

"No, we don't." Jacob sighed. "But… at least, we have something concerning Jessica. Esme thinks Jessica had it coming, and not to blame the victim, but she has a point."


	40. Chapter 39

**Thirty-Nine**

* * *

"Tonight is the moment of truth," Paul announced on a Friday morning with a wide grin on his face. He was in a good mood, not a commonplace during the last several months. It was justifiable: Sam was now awake. The vast majority of his would-be killers were in police custody and scared shitless of Paul (and the ATF). No one of note had died. Esme was talking, sort of. Sorio was getting his just desserts and Edward Cullen, for the time being, belonged the feds. And the higher powers of the CPD was finally pulling their heads out of his ass—his words.

Leah almost choked on her breakfast sandwich, surprised by Paul's comment. "Huh?"

Paul chuckled as he patted Leah's back. "The full moon."

Leah placed her food aside.

Right, that _was_ tonight.

Goodness.

The prospect was nerve-wracking, but a part of Leah was a bit… excited. If everyone worked out, she would turn into a large wolf. An actual wolf. The animal, a _wolf_. She wondered how it would feel to be in animal form. To think like a wolf. To behave one. How much would change. How she could behave around the pack, around Jacob. No one could provide her much input on the differences. "You just feel it," Jacob had told her.

Those words weren't exactly helpful, but Leah got it. It was hard to explain.

How she would be able to transform from an adult _human_ woman to a wolf and back, was hard to explain.

"Should I be concerned?"

Paul shook his head. "You'll be fine."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't give me much hope."

"Just don't fight it," Paul advised. "You'll be fine. Heck, Jacob's not worried about it, and he's worried about you _all_ the damn time."

Paul was right. Jacob wasn't worried about her throughout the day, and he sure wasn't concerned about her now. It was around midnight. With the pack surrounding her, Leah just stood in a middle of a forest clearing, like everyone had told her to, right under the moon, eyes opened, breathing leveled, just waiting for the change. Soon, she could feel her heart-rate picking up. Her hands were becoming clammy. Her emotions and her anxiety were running on high. She was hungry. She was restless. She wanted— _damn_ _it_ , she didn't know what she wanted.

She took a deep breath, completely ready for the next step—

But nothing happened.

She looked at everyone else. They expected her to phase; she should have shifted already. She was supposed to be one of the boys now, one of the wolves. She wasn't supposed to still be in human form. The guys were taken aback but weren't alarmed — even Jacob, who was seemingly always concerned when Leah was around.

She couldn't believe this shit.

"Why is nothing happening?" she asked, trying not to sound hysterical. She was more confused, more than anything. Annoyed. She had prepared for this day for so long… Paul had been able to phase during his first moon without a hitch. Why couldn't she?

"You're not ready," Jacob told her, sharing all of the guys' sentiment. "It's fine. It happens."

Leah narrowed her eyes at the man.

"You're still one of us," Paul insisted. "You would've been dead a long time ago if you weren't."

Embry, Quil, and Jared all nodded.

* * *

"Is there something wrong with me?" Leah asked Jacob during the car ride home. She hadn't expected to feel so disappointed, but here she was, asking Jacob the same question for the umpteenth time as he got on the highway back to Chicago.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Leah," Jacob said, glancing at her before merging to the left lane. He was sympathetic, understanding Leah's frustration. "You're just not ready."

Evidently not.

"But Paul—"

"Paul isn't _you_. Paul is an entirely different person," Jacob said, using a voice Leah hadn't heard in a while. He wasn't exactly irritated with her doubts; he just wanted to through her skull that everything would be fine. Surprisingly, it was almost comforting. "Listen, Quil phased when he was in middle school, and I didn't until I was nineteen and we were both born with the damn thing. Earlier-bloomer or late-bloomer, it really doesn't make a difference in the end."

Jacob's words were rational, but Leah couldn't help but think she was some outlier. She was the one woman in the pack; something the guys tried to ignore, but it was hard to. Maybe things would turn out differently. Maybe not—goodness, she hadn't felt this rush of emotions in a while. Not since that fateful December night. She had been told that the moon could heighten feelings, but she wasn't expecting it to be this.

Jacob certainly picked up on it. He reached out to her, grabbing her heads and said in a soft voice, "Hey, when I bit you, you became a wolf. Nothing's gonna change that." He squeezed her hand. "You're a wolf, and one day, you'll see it. I promise."

* * *

"Whoever invented wine should have an international holiday," Leah declared the next evening, pouring her second—or third—glass of the night.

"You got that right," Aisha said, saluting with her glass.

The detectives were at Aisha's, wasting the night away with Housewives re-run's playing in the background. They were both approaching drunkenness—Aisha with a bottle of Schnapps in her hand, and Leah with a bottle of wolfbane-laced red wine. Both bad ideas in a bottle, but the friends didn't care. This would be the first time in months when they didn't have to worry about work-related nonsense until the following Monday (Sam's drama, notwithstanding).

"Tiffany's staying for another year," Aisha announced abruptly. Her grin dropping, turning into a frown full of despair. "In _Afghanistan_. You can't make this shit up."

Leah felt for her friend. "You heard from her recently?"

Aisha shrugged and sighed. Her emotions were going haywire, Leah noticed. "Yeah, I got a letter last week. Parts of it redacted. Nothing much's going on with her." She looked up at her friend; she wanted to be optimistic, but she couldn't. Leah had told her numerous times to stop watching the news every five seconds, but Aisha couldn't stop. "Why did I decide to date someone in the goddamn military?"

"Everything will work out," Leah vowed, not really knowing what else to say.

Aisha honestly wanted to believe her friend, but she was shrouded was with a layer of doubt. She opened her mouth, probably to discuss the less than ideal situation even more, but then shut it. She shook her head.

"Aisha?"

"Okay, enough with the pity party," Aisha announced, pouring herself another glass. She quickly downed it, wincing as the liquid burned her throat. "Let's play a game. Twenty-one questions."

"What are we in, high school?" Leah replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stared at her bottle with admiring eyes and then frowned when she realized it was almost empty. "We are adults."

"Twenty-one questions _is_ an adult game, Detective," Aisha insisted, lifting her glass. "Let's spice it up, yeah?"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "No stripping."

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Just because my girlfriend's thousands of miles away doesn't mean I don't know what boundaries or monogamy is."

"Okay, so what's the spice?"

Aisha gave her friend a Cheshire grin. "Nothing's safe."

"Nothing's safe?" Leah raised an eyebrow. It seemed that Aisha had been sending too much time with Martinez and Paul.

"Every 'no comment' is a shot of this," Aisha said, pulling out two bottles of Tequila somehow lodged under the couch. Of course, one of them was laced with wolfbane, courtesy of an unsuspecting Quil. "Unless you want to chicken out."

Leah took another swig of her wine, slammed the bottle on the floor, and gave her smirking friend the stink-eye. She wasn't gone enough for this conversation; she was reaching that point, give her another half an hour, but not _gone_. "I don't chicken out of anything."

This probably explained why Leah's life was currently a supernatural mix of Law and Order and Jerry Springer.

Aisha laughed, handing Leah a shot glass. "Didn't think so." She popped open the bottles. "You ready?"

"I was born ready."

"What's the most daring thing you've ever done?"

"You're being tame, Detective," Leah taunted.

"Answer the question, Detective," Aisha retorted. "Or you get a shot."

"Work or personal?"

"Either one."

"Chased after a vampire during a shootout," Leah replied almost immediately. That had been an idiotic move. "Almost died because of it. My turn: do you like your job?"

Aisha's answer was hesitant. "It keeps me busy."

"That's not an answer."

"It keeps me busy."

"Take a shot."

Aisha pouted but relented, and then, "The best thing about being no longer a human?"

"Stamina," Leah replied. "I can run a marathon without breaking a sweat. And being able to pick up on people's emotions. Though, I'm learning it's a double-edged sword…"

"Worst thing?"

"Uptick in emotions and then there's my damn appetite."

"Nothing wrong with eating," Aisha remarked. "Heck, I wish I down food without worrying about gaining pounds."

"It's not just food."

"Oh." Aisha blinked, and then her eyes widened at the realization that her friend wasn't referencing food. " _Oh_." She leaned in. "Really?"

Leah sighed. "It's…frustrating."

The topic was admittedly uncomfortable, but Leah needed to get it off her chest in the presence of inhibition-reducing alcohol. She couldn't mention it to the guys; that would be _weird_. And Kim could only provide so much insight for being a human. And she wasn't googling shit.

Aisha was fascinated. "Is that…normal?"

"Apparently, I'm still in shapeshifter-puberty, so yeah," Leah grumbled, pouring herself a shot of tequila to get this conversation. "I guess I _can_ do something about it, but I don't need another person interfering with my marriage. One affair is enough. And, as you know, there is literally _nothing_ happening between me and my fool of a husband."

"Self-care?"

"Only can do so much."

"They have dolls, you know?" Aisha pointed out, smirking. "Apparently, it's the new craze."

Leah tossed a bottle cap at her friend. "I need a warm body. A living _person_."

"So, no to vampires?"

Leah laughed. "No to vampires."

"Vampires aren't that bad," Aisha said. "I mean when they're not making our lives difficult. Then again, I guess we can say that about humans… and other supernatural beings."

"Alright my turn," Leah declared. "Do you think Sam chose that undercover mission to avoid me?"

Judging on the expression on her face, that was a question Aisha most certainly hadn't expected. She straightened up, staring at Leah, and then, "I think it's a combo of things," she admitted. "You know how that man is. He's not great with confrontations of the heart."

"I just don't understand why he's so surprised about how this shit turned out," Leah said, frowning. "I mean, did he honestly think I wouldn't find out. I'm a detective, damn it. It's my _job_ to find shit out."

"He's been messing with Emily for three years. Maybe he thought he could get away it," Aisha reasoned. "He's like those serial killers—not that I'm _calling_ him one—but usually they're careful about covering their steps and then when they realized that no one's checking for them, they start to get sloppy. Same thing."

"He's an idiot."

"Most men are."

Leah grinned at that.

"Okay, a lighter question," Leah said. "If you can hook up with anyone from work, without worrying about the other BS, who would it be?"

"For a girl—I mean you're hot, but you're literally the sister I never had," Aisha pointed out, nearly gagging at the thought of it. "Not into incest."

Leah let out a light laugh. "Nice to know. So?"

"Martinez's former partner's pretty cute," Aisha said. "But she's a little weird."

"Understatement."

"Now, for a guy—definitely Paul," Aisha said without hesitation. It wasn't a shocking confession. Paul was _Paul_ and not Leah's type, but he was far from the vicinity of ugly; the man had an unofficial fan club, which quite surprisingly, the usually haughty captain didn't like to talk about. "Have you seen that man's abs? Have you seen _all_ of your packmates abs? Even Quil has a little something."

Leah nearly keeled over from laughter.

"What about you?"

"No comment."

"Shot," Aisha demanded, pointing at Leah' bottle.

Leah had no issue with that.

"Oh, come on, Leah, just give me a name," Aisha pleaded. "No judgment."

"I'm married."

"Yeah, only on _paper_." Aisha scoffed. "And for the record, the question was a hypothetical one."

"I'm not answering that."

Aisha put her both hands, apparently giving up. "Okay, how about a variation then?"

"Bring it."

"What about Jacob?"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "Fuck you, Aisha."

"Oh, come on," Aisha carried on, wiggling her eyebrows before breaking into a fit of laughter, "The chemistry between you two is _insane_. Leah, wouldn't you? Like I said, no judgment."

It had crossed her mind a few times. Several times, if she were honest with herself, and the bond that they had due to him being her alpha certainly didn't help matters. But she never pursued it, doubted she ever would.

And the reasons had nothing to do with work.

If the circumstances were _different_ , Leah would have considered it; she would have taken the chance. He was an attractive man, big and _strong_. He treated her right; cared about her welfare, and had a good head on his shoulder. He would have been everything Leah wanted, but she couldn't see it. Jacob and her? It just wouldn't feel right. He wasn't looking for anyone, and she… she had her own drama with Sam to handle.

It was fine, though. They were partners; they worked well as partners, as friends, as pack mates. Why mess up a good thing?

"No."

* * *

"Is Vegas still on?"

Leah took a bite of her sandwich—a Rueben, meaty and loaded with calories, just what the doctor ordered on this dreary Tuesday afternoon—and set it aside. After wiping her mouth with a napkin, she replied with, "Bad timing."

"Yeah, I figure that."

"Next year," Leah vowed. And she was going to stick to it, damn it. "There's too much shit going on, and I doubt it's going to be over by November."

They were at Quil's, taking a lunch break before returning to the grind. They had time; the day was relatively slow.

Jacob, to Leah's disgust, literally inhaled his burger before washing it down with some water. "Most likely not-" he stopped at the sound of his buzzing phone in his pocket. He checked the device, groaning at the sight of it. " _Goddamnit_."

"What happened now?"

"Duty calls," Jacob pulled out some cash and slapped it on the table (he refused to take any money from Leah). "At Cook County."

"What happened?" Jacob would ask roughly an hour later after being greeted by a corrections officer. The warden was supposed to meet with Leah and Jacob (Embry had chosen a great time to visit his family out of state), but he was tied up with meetings.

Leah waited for the corrections officer, a very distressed one, to answer Jacob's question. Admittedly, she was surprised that she and Jacob had been called in the first place. They seldom handled incidents involving the jail; the notorious site usually liked to handle matters in-house.

The officer ran a hand over his bald head, sighed, and said, "Inmate suicide."

"This one, you do," the corrections officer said, leaving no room for argument. He motioned the detectives to follow his lead, and when they reached their destination deep within the jail, he pointed to the holding cell turned crime scene, wrapped in caution tape. All surrounding cells were empty, thank goodness. The prisoners must have been moved after the fact.

Bella was inside the cell, leaning over a body, carefully examining it. From where they were standing, the detectives couldn't get a good look of the poor soul. "Who is it?" Jacob asked.

The question was more or less bullshit; Leah had a sinking feeling whom the body belonged to, and there was no doubt that Jacob did as well. He had a better handle on detecting people's scents than she did, and he would have definitely picked up on this one.

"I think you should see for yourself," the correctional officer replied.

The detectives nodded and entered the cell single-filed. Bella finally looked up and acknowledged their presence before yawning. She looked downright exhausted. "About time you show up."

Jacob stepped in further. "We were in West Ridge—" He stopped, looked down, gave Leah forlorn look and then back at the body. "You're shitting me."

"I wish I was," Bella said quietly. She reached over to the box of gloves and exchanged her soiled ones for new ones.

Leah went to Jacob's side. The victim was laid on his back, arms, and legs spread out. When Leah peered over to get a better look at the wound, he felt almost nauseous at the bloody sight. There was a gash starting from the upper part of the left side of the neck, below the angle of the jaw and stopping on the right side. "Did he have a long-lost twin we didn't know about?"

"Please tell me there is…"

"What…?" Bella looked between Leah and Jacob, confused and shook her head before asking a CSI team member for a camera. "Not that I know of. You guys, it's _him._ It's Mike."

Jacob slowly retreated until he dumped into a bench. He sat down and leaned over, holding his chin in his hand. "I can't believe this shit," he said, voice cracking.

"Do you mind leaving us?" Leah asked the corrections officer, though it was more of a demand than a request. For a brief moment, the corrections officer appeared to want to fight the order, but he must have seen the serious look on Leah's face, for he huffed and puffed but walked away. "Was this a hit?"

"Suicide," Bella replied. "He slit his throat."

"Are you sure?" Leah asked.

"I can't see Mike letting someone doing so from this angle," Bella said.

"He was going to accept the plea bargain," Jacob said, shaking his head. Astonished. Disappointed. Frustrated and angry—Leah could practically see the emotions rolling off her partner. "He was going to give us information. More information..."

"He probably thought being dead was his best choice," Leah muttered, sharing her partner's sentiments. She couldn't believe this was happening. Their only chance of closing a murder case was in front of them, _dead_. Mike had died a painful death; she couldn't imagine what had gone through his mind when he allegedly ran the blade across his throat.

"Time of death?" Leah asked.

Bella looked down at Mike. "Nine am—at the latest, eleven."

"When was he found?"

"Two hours ago."

Leah crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Mike. Something didn't sound right, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly _what_. Where was the supervision? How did Mike get the blade? She shifted her attention to Jacob, who was still staring at the dead body from his perch on the bench. He was upset, more upset than she had ever seen him. "Well, this blows."

" _Fuck_!" Jacob exclaimed, jumping out of his seat to punch the wall behind him, startling the other occupants of the jail cell. The punch had caused more damage than intended.

Leah and Bella looked at each other, a bit taken aback. The medical examiner dropped her tools and gulped while Leah took a couple of deep breaths, then stood up tall, straightening her suit jacket. _Okay_. This was something alarmingly new, watching Jacob, huffing, and puffing, steaming with anger. He was always well-tempered; he wasn't one to lash out over some little thing. That was one of the main reasons why people liked working with him. He wasn't the type to punch out a perpetrator out of anger and annoyance; that just wasn't him.

"Jacob," Leah called out, approaching him.

Realizing what he had just done, Jacob slowly took a step back, grabbed at his hair, and groaned. "Fuck. I'm so sorry…I just—I can't—"

Bella could tell he was. Thankfully, none of the corrections officers were close enough to notice. "I understand why you're upset, but no more outbursts, okay? We don't want to attract any more attention..." Bella quietly warned. "Also, I think you're going to have to—"

There had only been a few times when Jacob exhibited this level of anger, and it was concerning because it wasn't like him. He wasn't Paul, which made the situation so much more dangerous. Because no one knew what else could happen—the man had already punched a hole into the cinderblock wall.

Leah had to calm Jacob down. She ran a hand down her face, knowing what she had to do. "Jacob, outside," she demanded.

Jacob stood up straight. "Leah—"

" _Now_."

* * *

"Punching holes in walls isn't going to solve a goddamn thing," Leah told her partner sternly when they reached a secluded area of the jail. Jacob was still steaming in anger, reminiscent of Paul when he was in those moods, moments away from phasing.

Jacob knew that. Leah knew Jacob knew she was right, but he was frustrated beyond recognition. Leah got it; she had felt that very emotion plenty of times before, but they were at work. They had a job to do.

"We just met with Jenks and promised him that everything was going fine!"

"Jacob, the last time we checked, we're not psychic. How on earth were we supposed to know Mike was going to kill himself?" Leah reasoned, reaching out to cup Jacob's face; she needed his undivided attention. "If we had known the man was suicidal, we would have put him under 24-hour supervision. You know that."

"Leah, I—"

"C'mon, Black, you're supposed to be the level-headed one in this partnership. I'm supposed to be the one unleashing hell at every corner," she told him, poking him in the chest. "It took me years to get that reputation, and you're not going to let Mike Newton fuck it up."

She was being a bit cheeky. The situation didn't exactly call for levity, but she needed Jacob's heart rate to slow before heading back inside. All she wanted was a smile from him, even a small, nanosecond one — something to tell her that everything was going to be okay.

"Got it?"

Leah could hear Jacob's heartbeat, slowing down to a normal rate. His face relaxed; his entire body was slow to recover, but it was nowhere near the state it had been in moments earlier.

He looked guilty, but Leah couldn't blame him for a damn thing. It was like they couldn't catch a break. Every single time they thought they had _something_ , it just exploded in their faces. It happened with Lauren, and now, it happened with Mike.

"I'm sorry, Leah. I just—" Jacob paused to take a deep breath and gather his words. "I didn't mean to snap like that."

"There's no need to apologize," Leah said. It wasn't her who needed his apology. She was fine, but maybe he should speak to Bella. "Now, what we're going to do is go back there and demand an explanation, starting from the warden. Apparently, the warden is in the middle of a meeting, but we'll get him out of it. Sounds like a plan?"

"Yes."

"And for the record, I'm going to be doing the talking. Do you understand me? I let you question anyone until you calm the hell down."

"I _am_ calm."

"I'm doing the talking."

"Leah—"

"I'm doing the talking."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Every single time we take one step forward, something always forces us to take two steps back. Frankly, I'm getting tired of this." Jenks said, resigned as he poured himself a glass of brandy. It was still the middle of the day; he was still on the clock, but as he had mentioned to his guests earlier, everyone should cut him some slack. He had a terrible day, finding out about Mike before the detectives did. He was the first person the jail called after reaching out to 911. "Tell me, do you think we're cursed?"

Leah exchanged a look with her partner before clearing her throat and replying, "It's Chicago."

She loved this city, dearly. Couldn't honestly see herself living somewhere else, despite her extended family's attempts to persuade her to relocate to Washington. But this city drove her nuts. It drove most people in her field nuts because Chicago didn't make things easy. Something was _always_ happening.

"It's Chicago," Jacob reiterated with a shrug. He was in a much better mood; making the hole in the wall hadn't been his greatest accomplishment, but according to the warden- who still thought Mike caused it during one of his fits— the damage wasn't that bad.

Jacob had felt bad about the incident and had seriously considered pouring his soul out to the order until Leah told her, quite strongly, the downsides of talking too much. If the warden wanted to believe it was the dead man's fault, then let him.

"It's Chicago..." Jenks muttered, shaking his head. "So, suicide?"

"That's what Bella's ruling it as. The warden swears by her findings as well," Jacob said. "The man slit his own throat."

Both Leah and Jenks grimaced.

"What a way to go," Jenks said, downing half of his drink. "Tell your captain that I'll be stopping by later today to discuss this wonderful turn of events," and then, "Did he give you the Mike case?"

"We're not too sure," Leah admitted. "Everyone's been swamped with work, especially with the whole Sam-episode-"

"Ah, right." Jenks nodded. "Maria's done."

"It's complicated," Jacob said. "Apparently, she knows people in high places."

"Well, I sure hope so. The woman's been alive for centuries. If she hadn't made any connections during those years, she's a fool," Jenks said. "Tell me: Mexican government stepping in for her immunity? Or deportation?"

"Like Jacob said: it's complicated," Leah said. "We're personally handling the ones who actually shot Sam. The ones with no connections to our neighbors south of the border. We're getting ready to give them to you."

Jenks nodded. "What it's looking like, murder two?"

"Murder one," Jacob said. "They got orders and followed them."

"But you're not handling Maria?" Jenks questioned, puzzled. "I assume she was the one who dished out the orders-"

"Actually, it wasn't her," Leah said. "It was one of her trigger-happy lieutenants who wanted to impress their boss. And anyway, she's already in trouble with feds. Let them deal with her."

"Now, who's done is Victoria," Jacob added. "Thanks to her ill-advised decision to knock off an informant, among other things, she and her crew are getting shipped to Arizona."

Leah glanced at her partner. So, he _did_ know about Arizona. "Is that on record?"

Jacob shook his head. "No. We're technically not allowed to know about that."

"Right..." Jenks said. "Back to Mike Newton, so he committed suicide. Obviously, he thought that it would be easier to be dead than face justice, or worse the mob."

"I think it's the latter," Leah offered. "In prison or out, he was in way too deep. He was screwed either way."

* * *

"I can't say I'm too surprised," Jacob told Leah during the ride from Jenks' office to the station. He let out a humorless laugh. "Don't you remember the night Mike got arrested? How did he look? The way he acted and spoke to us? How he wouldn't even let Shapiro do what he was paid to do? He died that night."

"The hole in the wall suggests otherwise," Leah muttered.

Jacob let out a sigh. "Not my finest moment."

"I'm glad you recognized that."

"It's just..."

"I get it," Leah insisted. "But that's not going to happen again."

Jacob shook his head. "Never."

* * *

Leah didn't expect to see Sam when she arrived home.

For the past few days, he had been spending time with Allison and Emily (though reluctantly). But here he was, sitting in front of the television, looking like he had just woken up from a nap— According to the doctor's, he was good enough not to reside in a hospital room, but not well enough to return to work. At least, not yet. Give it a couple of months of rest and physical therapy.

She already felt the impending headache—she had a terrible day; she wasn't in the mood to deal with her husband, but didn't have the heart to kick him out. She was hoping that Allison would stop by; her mother-in-law vowed not to let her son sleep, home alone, and with Leah's schedule being her schedule, Allison would stay the night.

She needed Allison tonight. She needed her mother-in-law to be the buffer.

But thankfully, Sam didn't appear like he was in the mood for a fight. He hadn't been since he had woken up from a coma—That was fine.

"How's your mom?" Leah asked, removing her jacket and tossing it to the side. It was nine in the evening; all she wanted to do was take a shower and _sleep_ (preferably with Sam remaining on the couch).

"She's picking me up in a few," Sam replied.

Leah tried to mask the relief on her face, on her body, but seconds later, she gave up. She was done with the man sitting twenty feet away from her. She could care less about his discomfort at his wishing loving the fact that he wouldn't be spending the night.

"And Emily?"

"Haven't spoken to her today," Sam said, not conveying much emotion. But then he did, but it was one of curiosity. "Found some steaks and ground beef in the fridge, you're no longer a pescatarian?"

For some reason, Leah hadn't thought he'd notice. He didn't see much concerning her, but then again, he was a detective. He could turn on his investigative skills when he wanted to—he was looking at her, waiting for an answer but not expecting one. _He's learning_ , Leah thought.

"I guess not," Leah replied. She wasn't ready for that conversation; she didn't know if she would ever be. She kicked off her shoes and headed to the bedroom. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Leah."


	41. Chapter 40

**Forty**

* * *

"90 Day Fiancé," Sue announced, finally stopping on the TLC channel. She placed the remote aside and leaned against the back of her couch. "New episodes. How exciting."

Leah chuckled.

It was just one of those days, when Leah could spend the entire Sunday night in front of a television screen with her mother by her side, both chomping on popcorn aimlessly. It was just the two of them; Seth was out and about, attending a gaming convention like the nerd that he was (Leah would forever tease him about it and never mention the fact that Jared might or might not have introduced her to World of Warcraft, and she enjoyed it).

Goodness, she couldn't remember the last time she spent time with Sue, just _relaxing_.

"I thought you hated this show?"

Her mother was more of a talk-show, political commentary (with the occasional HGTV binge) type of person.

"But you don't," Sue said, shrugging. "Plus, I never said I _hated_ the show. I just hate that those couples lack common sense."

Leah grinned and reached out for more popcorn. The lack of common sense was that made this show brilliant, in Leah's opinion. Personally, it was television-bound train wreck she needed after a long week of work—she even got Jacob hooked on it. "You know, it's probably all fake, right?"

"I stand by my words."

"It's mindless," Leah explained, washing down the popcorn with iced tea. "It forces me to turn my brain off."

"We all need that sometimes," Sue remarked, and then, "How is everything, exactly? I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

"We talk on the phone constantly—"

"That's not the same, and you know it. Talk to me, dear. Tell me what I've been missing in my sad retired life."

"Sad retired life?" Leah scoffed. "You have more of a social life than I do. You said this was the happiest you've been in years." "Nothing's changed. Just the same old drama."

"How's Jacob?"

"He's fine."

"Bring him over, will you? It's almost been a year since you two became partners. Isn't that a record?" Sue asked. She was being snarky, but it was good-hearted. "We should celebrate."

"Would it be rude for me to tell you to shut up?"

"I appreciate that you asked, and yes, that would be rude."

"I figured that."

"Is that a yes?"

"I'll ask him."

"How's Sam doing with his injuries?"

"He should be back to work by the end of the year."

Sue huffed and shook her head. "That girl's having her baby soon, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is."

* * *

Emily had her baby in mid-October.

The news was bittersweet— Leah was glad that there were no complications, but... this was Emily and Sam's child. A reminder of that goddamn affair that still lingered in the back of her mind.

"Good for her," Jacob said before giving the waiter his order. The detectives had just finished with their shifts and decided to treat themselves before heading home. Once the waiter walked away with their orders, the detective asked, "What's the deal with their relationship, anyway?"

Leah raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her pop. Oh, Emily— Jacob had always made sure to choose the right words and the right time to speak about Emily. He regretted the question the moment he finished, but Leah wasn't annoyed. She was tired of being annoyed with a situation she had no control over.

"Shit, I don't think they even know," Leah admitted. Sam was undoubtedly in denial about his new status as a baby daddy, and Emily was convinced that they would get married the moment her cousin's divorce was finalized. "They didn't think their _whatever_ through."

"They're staying together?"

Leah shrugged. "Emily seems more into him after he got shot, so maybe she wants to pursue something. And Sam... is Sam."

"He doesn't know what he wants."

Leah shook her head.

"Does he want you?"

Leah didn't immediately respond. She had never asked Sam that question because she always had thought it wouldn't matter in the end. But she had a sense, that underneath all of his lack-of-communication layers, Sam still loved her of some sort. He wanted her more than he wanted Emily... he didn't even have to voice that.

"I think he's accepted his fate as far as I'm concerned," she ended up saying. "But... I don't know." She sighed. "He needs to more focused on being a father."

Jacob nodded.

Leah let out another sigh and pulled out her phone. After spending the next moments skimming through her photo album, she stopped at the desired photo and smiled. It was a photo of baby Sam in Emily's arms.

Leah showed Jacob the picture.

"Cute baby," Jacob remarked, handing the phone back to Leah.

Leah nodded. Despite her personal feelings towards his parents, Abel was absolutely adorable, and she wanted to hold him, play with him, and pinch his cheeks. She took her phone back and asked, "Have you ever seen an ugly baby?"

"I think babies are designed to be cute, cry, and ruin diapers."

Leah let out a small laugh. "Ever wanted kids?"

"I already have five and a half kids, thank you."

"The pack doesn't count. And is the 'half' for Jared? I'm telling him," Leah said, feigning disappointment before giving Jacob a smirk, "I mean, _actual_ children."

"I don't know, to be honest."

"Did you talk about it with Monica?"

"I think every married couple has that conversation," Jacob said. There wasn't much emotion behind his words, not like before when he had spoken about his ex-wife; a change Leah found interesting. Jacob shrugged and continued, "We talked about it, but then… we just stopped. I guess either way it doesn't matter to me."

"What about now?"

Jacob looked at Leah and snorted. "Not with this job."

"I see what you mean."

* * *

"So, what's up with the new interest in red meat?" Sam asked one night. He had asked that very question numerous times over the last month, ever since finding of his wife's change in diet. Leah had always given him the same vague answer. "I'm surprised you haven't gotten sick."

Leah glanced behind her, pulled out two wolfbane-free beers , and shut the fridge door. She wasn't planning on telling him the truth. One day she would, in the future, once everything calmed down. Once the timing was right—he never would have the right to know, especially with Leah being his soon-to-be-ex-wife. But she wanted to tell him, and she couldn't explain why. She didn't even know how he was going to react.

She shook the thought away.

"Tried of fish," Leah said flippantly, handing a beer to her husband. He had been increasingly less infuriating during the past couple of weeks. Leah was attributing that to the fact that he still hadn't accepted his new role as a father. "Thought I'd tried something new."

It wasn't exactly a lie.

Silence fell between the couple as they opened their beers and downed some of it. It was broken sometime later by Leah who had gotten up from her seat and handed Sam the most crucial pile of papers, currently, in her life. She gave them to Sam and said, "It's for the best."

She could yell at him. Bring up Emily and the baby again, but she was too emotionally drained to deal with that again. She just needed Sam to sign those damn divorce papers so they both could get on with their lives without killing each other.

Sam stared down at the papers, expression… not much of one. Leah was expecting something like anger, frustration, sorrow, but she got nothing. There was a flash of resignation in her husband's eyes, but it went away as quickly as it had arrived. "This is it," he said quietly.

Leah nodded. "I think this is best for the both of us."

Sam didn't fight it. Maybe, he realized that Leah was right. They supposed they could come back from all of this, not as spouses, no, that was a lost cause, but as two people capable who could to become acquaintances, not friends, but two people cordial towards to each other. It seemed like a long shot from now, but it could happen. Sam's words were helping more than he could already know.

All Leah wanted was an apology. Not some bullshit one, but sincere. She wanted Sam to regret his actions; she wanted him to feel like shit. She wanted him to fight to get back in her good graces—it would never be like how it was before, before she learned about Emily, but _something_. Something more than this.

Sam's gaze dropped to his lap. "I've been unfair to you, and for that, I'm sorry," he whispered. He lifted his gaze, locking ears with his wife; she didn't respond, maybe she didn't want to or perhaps she didn't have the right words. Sam decided to carry on, "I'm sorry about everything. About Emily. About those past three years. About being an asshole to you."

Leah held her breath.

"I know saying all of this isn't going to solve anything. It's not going to stop us from signing those papers, but I wanted you to know that." Sam sighed, and then, "I didn't deserve you then, and I sure as Hell don't deserve you now. And… I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. Fuck, you don't owe me a damn thing. Anything you want, I'll do everything in my power—"

"Just…" Leah cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "Be a good father. Promise me that."

"I promise."

* * *

"That conversation was more civil than I expected," Jacob would tell Leah the following morning as he drove to the station. He smiled at her and before saying, quite cheekily, "I'm impressed. No guns were drawn. No police called. Really impressed. Very proud of you."

"Oh, fuck you," Leah bit back. She pinched Jacob's side hard enough for the man to wince. She glared at him, but without much heat, when he complained about corporal violence and then laughed. It took everything for her not to join him. Instead, she leaned against her seat and said quietly, "What's being mad at him forever going to achieve?"

"Not a damn thing?" Jacob tried.

"Not a damn thing," Leah confirmed with a nod before taking a sip of her coffee. "He fucked up," she carried on without the usual bite. That surprised her. "We all know it. _He_ knows it. But now, after everything, we just have to move on with our lives. The divorce's going to be uncontested. Sam's got a baby and a maybe-girlfriend to worry about. I have to get used to the fact that I'm no longer human and more or less have been transferred to the Supernatural Crimes Unit."

"Nothing's official."

"Oh, it's going to be official. The new superintendent is making it official for everyone in the task force. But anyway, why waste my energy on something I can't change?" Leah asked, shrugging. The question was rhetorical. "I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I'm just going to live my life. Drama, be damned."

Jacob gave her an honest, warm smile, obviously pleased by Leah's words and said, "I'm glad you two were able to work it out."

"I'm glad, too," Leah replied. She knew Jacob was happy for her; she wished she could apologize to him for all the times she had ranted about her soon-to-be ex-husband. He was her partner, her friend and now, her alpha… not her goddamn therapist. But she knew he wouldn't accept her apology. Not out of malice but out of the belief that it wasn't necessary.

A comfortable silence fell between them. Leah took a moment to roll down the passenger seat window and deeply breathe in, no longer repulsed by the intense smells of outside, she had gotten used to the mixture of sounds and smells to the point that she could finally tune them out.

Leah exhaled slowly, relaxed as if all the weight stemming from her marriage had finally rolled off her shoulders. She couldn't fight back her satisfied smile even if she wanted to. "Now, I can finally breathe."

"Well, Edward Cullen officially belongs to the United States government," Aisha announced hours later, pulling up a chair to Leah's desk. "Fifteen years. It should have been longer, but the man's lawyer may be better than Rosalie."

"He accepted the plea," Jacob said, leaning back in his chair with hands behind his head. "Fifteen years."

"I guess Esme's the new boss," Embry said, and then snorted. "Did anyone have that in their pool? Esme Cullen being the boss. I sure didn't."

"This makes things interesting," Leah told everyone. "She isn't her husband. She isn't Edward. She's going to legitimized the Cullen business the best she could—"

"But underneath everything, she's still a criminal," Aisha said. "She'll slip up one of these days. We know she's involved in some shit. Unfortunately, our evidence isn't enough to bring her down."

Leah crossed her arms. Aisha was, much to her disappointment, right. As she explained to everyone, Esme had her hands in everything relating to the Cullen's, but that could only be described as merely being influential. She had been with the Cullen's since the thirties; of course, she was going to have clout… and she was going to get information not available to the others, including proof of Irina and Demetri's affair which had been given to her back in the nineties.

Esme had also known about Carlisle's growing "affections" for Jessica. As revenge for sleeping with her husband, she had introduced Jessica to Demetri a few weeks before her murder under false pretenses that he was an ally—according to Esme, she had no idea that Jessica was going to die that night.

"You believe that?"

"I don't believe in anything a person of interest says unless proven otherwise," Leah told Aisha. It was probably an unfair judgment, but her murder investigations had scarred her. Expect everything and nothing, her former captain had told her during her early years as a detective.

"This Esme is one smart cookie," Aisha said. "I pity those who doubt her."

"At least, she's talking to us," Embry said.

"You think she's going to admit to everything?" Jacob asked Leah.

Leah shook her head. "I think she's trying to be on our good side. Make us believe that the main issue is Victoria's crew, the Velasquez cartel, and of course, the Volturi."

"Cooperation is a good way to stay away from the heat," Aisha said with a nod. "The feds aren't going after her?"

"They have Edward. For now, they probably think that's enough," Leah said. "He's currently being held in Alcatraz until his next court appearance."

Aisha sighed. "This shit isn't going to be over anytime soon."

Jacob and Embry shook their heads.

"No, it's not," Leah confirmed. "No, it's not."

* * *

 _"Good morning, this is Priya Sharma reporting from Cook County Jail where over forty members of the Chicago Police Department, the Office of the Medical Examiner and the Cook County Court office are being held. Just a half an hour ago, they were arrested for connections with various criminal organizations, including the..."_

"This is so fucking embarrassing," Paul, the man with arguably the most colorful language in all of CPD, remarked. "As if CPD doesn't have shitty enough reputation as it is. _Fuck_."

Leah shared Paul's sentiment. The scandal was bad, really bad. If it had been any other year, Leah would have been fully invested in the police department scandal, not with this one. Most of the details she hadn't learned about until earlier the week, courtesy of Aisha who had some connections in Internal Affairs.

A few cops came up to him and patted his shoulder to provide some solace. Four people initially assigned to the task force were among the ones arrested, a major embarrassment for a captain who prided himself in making sure that his unit didn't entangle itself in any mobster bullshit.

"Don't be hard yourself, Captain," Jared said, handing his supervisor yet another cup of coffee. "No one knew we'd have some traitors here, and at least, you're not in handcuffs—"

" _That's not the goddamn point_ ," the captain snapped, apologized, and then thanked the man for his much-needed drink. After taking a few long sips, he cleared his throat, and continued, "First, the superintendent of the police and his entire goddamn staff resigned yesterday, and _now this shit_!"

"I knew the Deal was bad news from the start," Martinez grumbled under his breath, shaking his head along with the rest of his co-workers in the office. It was supposed to be a regular workday, but everyone's attention was focused on the news coverage playing on the television hanging from the ceiling of the open workspace.

"What is the deal about anyway?" Another cop, a rookie, asked. "I keep hearing about it and how it screwed everything up around here, but I don't know what it's for."

"Just know that it was a bad, terrible idea," the captain said as he watched Carolina Barba's short press conference. The woman was practically smug, and the captain couldn't even get mad at her . This was a high-profile case.

Jacob and Leah quietly watched on as the rest of their coworkers as Lisa reiterated the events from the past several hours. They were standing in the back of the crowd, sporting a cup of coffee with two extra espresso shorts—it was usually a bit of an overkill to ingest so much caffeine, but thanks to the arrests, everyone at CPD had accepted that they would be sleep-deprived for at least, the next few weeks.

"I didn't think they would arrest so many people," Leah remarked.

Not even Aisha's useful intel prepared Leah for this.

Leah knew about the mass resignations, starting with the superintendent, most of his staff, and the deputy superintendent, all strongly "encouraged" to save face. She knew that their replacements had to be aware of the human-supernatural relations and the federal and state laws concerning them.

She also had _known_ that arrests would be imminent, although not how many. Sorio had decided to refer to common sense upon the realization that the feds were coming after him too, so he did the most sensible thing: sing. Charges against the cops and other city and state officials included aiding criminal organizations, perjury, accepting brides, transporting and selling contraband, such as UV's, unclaimed dead bodies and copious amounts of human blood.

In other words, those arrested were fucked.

"Word on the street is that it wasn't supposed to be so many people, but ever since Mike's suicide and Irina's suspicious disappearance and subsequent reappearance at the morgue, and Sorio finding God, the feds are... let's just say: _determined._ "

"Great, they're pissed off."

"An understatement," Jacob mumbled into his cup before ingesting more of his coffee. By the time this whole situation blew over, the entire station would be extremely caffeinated. "Do you think Barba's gonna prosecute everyone?"

"Like you said, the feds are determined," Leah said. "One another note: I picked up on the conversation Jenks had with Paul and the city reps earlier. I did try not to eavesdrop, but it was too tempting. The city's thinking about creating a new Deal."

"As expected," Jacob said, crossing his arms. "I doubt they'll ever scrap it. Maybe once everyone learns about the supernatural which I doubt it'll happen anytime soon."

Leah nodded, and then, "Also, the feds are becoming more involved in supernatural federal cases. No more punting it to municipal police departments, which I think we'll lessen our work loud." She nudged Jacob with an elbow. "So that means, you're going to have to do something about your disdain for the Bureau."

"I don't hate them," Jacob insisted as always. "If they want some of our shit, then be my guest. Is that going to affect the Voldemort taskforce?"

Leah shook her head. "As far I know, it's going to serve more as a joint-taskforce to help out the feds when needed. But it's still going to be business as usual. Now, the question is what's going to happen with the revised Deal."

Jacob sighed. "Yeah."

The detectives returned to watching the press conference—the interim superintendent was now speaking about transparency and the usual jargon. Nothing special. As soon as he finished, Leah let out a deep breath, finished her drink, and jumped off the desk she was sitting on. "Come on, they're not going to say anything new anytime soon. We got much work to do concerning Mike Newton."

"What is there to investigate?" Jacob asked. "Did we determine that he committed suicide to avoid being labeled a rant?"

"Paul wants us to look into the circumstances behind Mike's suicide," Leah explained, drawing from the meeting she had with the captain while Jacob had taken a bathroom break. "For reasons, I'm sure we'll discover, Paul is under the belief that someone took Mike Newton's life. And a part of me thinks that he may be onto something."

"Another thing to cross off the list," Jacob said, following Leah out of the station. "Hopefully, we won't have to add on more items onto it."

"Wishful thinking," Leah said, targeting and capturing Embry's attention with a wave. Embry waved back and mouthed that he would be out in a few minutes. "Nothing in this case is easy."

Despite the progress from the past couple of months, the case was far from over. No one knew when it would be over. Maybe in years, perhaps not in their lifetime. The case was so convoluted with twists and turns but that didn't mean they had to give up. They would

continue bringing those to justice one way or the other. And if it wouldn't be them, it would be their fellow cops after them. The Olympic coven and the Volturi coven would be brought to their knees, the Voldemort Taskforce vowed to.

* * *

Leah was happy to be home.

Not specifically because of her apartment but because she was finally off of work. With Sam with Emily and the baby with the night, Leah had the entire place to herself. She needed the rest; she needed to get out of her work clothes and throw herself onto the bed until midnight when she would have to meet up with the pack for attempting-to-phase-during-a-full-moon part deux.

Leah opened her front door and froze.

She thought she was seeing things. Given the events of the past several months, she wouldn't put it past her. But Jane, _there_ , inside her apartment, seemed _very_ real to her. She considered calling for backup but didn't make a move. A part of her understood that Jane, that Jane, wouldn't be putting herself in such a precarious situation if there wasn't a damn good reason.

And the vampire seemed to have realized that Leah was no longer human.

"How did you… get in?" she carefully asked, closing the door behind her and locking it without glancing behind her. Her eyes _had_ to remain on the vampire, sitting at the dining room. When Jane gave her a knowing look, Leah rephrased her question. "What are you doing here?"

"It is nice to see you again, Detective. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I am no longer employed by the Volturi," Jane replied, not exactly answering Leah's question. She seemed relaxed but cautious. Definitely a completely different person from the last time the two women had met. "Apparently, my actions or lack thereof during a particular certainly ill-fated tunnel raid has displeased by superiors."

 _Oh shit_ , Leah thought as she walked further into her apartment. _The rumor's real_. She stopped at the kitchen table, tossing her bag aside, pulled out a chair, and sat directly across from the vampire. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jane watched her for a bit, perhaps trying to figure the detective out, and replied with,

"For over a thousand years, the Volturi's purpose has been to preserve the vampire world, to make sure that the humans do not interfere with us. They have made laws to ensure this, including, but not limited to the law Sasha Denali had foolishly broken... and they have insisted that all matters, criminal or not, remain a vampire-issue. I joined the coven out of necessity and later remained because I believed in their cause. But after since that fateful night in the tunnels, I have begun to question their objectives. Among other things…"

Leah's eyes widened.

Jane just officially implicated the Volturi for the Denali murders.

 _Holy shit_.

"Again," Leah said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Why are you telling me this, and what are you doing here?"

For a brief moment, it seemed that Jane didn't know herself. She was conflicted between old loyalty and finding new ones. She was obviously hurt by the decision to be let go from the Volturi. The Volturi had been her life for centuries.

"You can ease your concerns. I am not here to kill you," Jane stated in her patented emotionless voice. She must have sensed the slight and confused apprehension rolling off of Leah. "I am only here to talk."

Leah couldn't help but scoff. "You want to talk? _You_?"

"I believe that was what I said," Jane said. "It has come to my attention that the investigation into the death of Jessica Stanley and the others has more or less stalled with a probable unsatisfying end in the near future. I'm here to bring it back to life."

* * *

 **Whew! It's finally complete!**

 **I want to thank you all so much for your support!** **If you enjoyed this story, check out the sequel, The Emancipation of Leah Clearwater.**


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